24 Ground Zero
by Bauerspirit
Summary: When the power of love overcomes and love of power, then the world will know peace.The sequel to the shocking events of 24 : End of an Era...12 months later... With Jack Bauer locked up in a high security prison for the murder of President Palmer Stephen
1. Episode 200 Prequel

24: Ground Zero

Episode 2.00: "Day 2: Prequel"

By

Chris Wright

Based on the television series 24

And

24: End of an Era

24: Ground Zero – Day 2: Prequel 

**Thursday 28th February, 2008**

**1:00am FLE Daylight Time**

**Twenty miles South of Kyiv, Ukraine**

Grigory Lem threw open the door to the small Portakabin that sat in the middle of the seemingly Arctic landscape. He shivered slightly despite the many layers of clothing he wore. He took a cigarette from his jacket pocket and struggled to light it in the biting gale. The lighter was solid gold, suggesting that this man was fairly important. Suddenly, headlights lit up the scene as three cars approached seemingly from nowhere. They drew up just in front of the cabin, giving Grigory a chance to finish his cigarette before they exited. He didn't recognize most of the people, but one was unmistakable; Ivan Gresko.

Grigory waited for them to approach and then warmly embraced Ivan. There was a connection between the two men which broke the uneasiness that had grown. Ivan was followed into the cabin by at least five other men who seemed to Grigory like his bodyguards. Once they had all entered, Grigory followed; a little apprehensive at the meeting ahead.

Ivan took in his surroundings with an air of disappointment. He felt overdressed in his expensive suit with everyone else wearing many layers of industrial body-warmers and thermals. He sighed and sat down facing the large man on the other side of the simple wooden table and waited. He knew how these deals work; no unnecessary talking and wait for the host to speak first. There was at least a minute of silence before the other man slid a padded envelope across the table; speaking his words in fluent Ukrainian.

"Here are your clean passports and flight tickets. There is a jet waiting at an airfield five minutes from here to take you to London. When you arrive you will be greeted again for further instructions,"

Ivan opened the envelope, carefully overturning it to check the contents. Everything seemed in order except the key that was taped to one of the bags.

"The key is for a left luggage locker at Heathrow Airport; it contains what you need for your trip to America."

Ivan nodded, replacing everything into the envelope again, taking care not to lose anything. He knew what was at stake. He began to stand to leave again, knowing better than to speak or show any doubt.

"Oh and Ivan?" the man whispered, causing him to turn around, "When you reach Los Angeles you will need to make contact with Kevin Cassel…I'm sure you've heard of him."

Ivan swallowed hard, knowing full well who Kevin Cassel was. He exited the cabin quickly, closely followed by his guards. Grigory waited for the men to leave and then flashed a small smile to his boss.

"Well that went well!" he smiled, only receiving a grunt in return.

Ivan paced quickly to his car, the impact of the man's words hitting him gradually more. He threw open the door but waited for a second as he caught the eyes of one of his guards. They locked eyes, and Ivan nodded slowly before getting into his car. The guard followed suit, but only before producing what looked like a remote control from his pocket. The cars sped away, just as the Portakabin exploded in a ball of fire. When the dust settled, very little was left of what had once stood, only a rapidly growing puddle of water from the rapidly melting ice.

**Thursday 27th February, 2008**

**7:15pm Eastern Time**

**Savannah River, South Carolina**

Everything was quiet around the dull looking facility near the banks of the Savannah River, with only the rushing of water breaking the silence. The perimeter lights of the building lit up small arcs around the grounds, but beyond the ten foot wire fence, there was nothing but darkness. Suddenly though, there was a rustling in the darkness, and four small men ran to the fence; one carrying a long, heavy object. As they reached the fence, the object was used to cut a hole in the fence, and they rushed through, making a direct line for the large warehouse door. As they reached it, they stopped, seemingly waiting for a command. Suddenly, a crackling voice spoke through an unseen source, but was heard by all four.

"Masks on…"

The gas masks slung around the men's necks were put on and a charge was placed on the door. Within seconds, the door blew and they rushed in; taking in a scene of devastation. Bodies were strewn across the floor, caught in the wall of overpowering gas that had flooded in barely five minutes ago. Some had fallen from higher places and were lying with their limbs clearly smashed to pieces as they hit the metal grating floor. But these bodies weren't what the men were interested in; it was the large object one of the dead was strewn over. The group split into two; one couple moving to the object, and the other to the control panel. After a little tinkering, the front gate outside the building swung open and an unmarked van rushed inside, its rear doors open. The unwieldy object was carefully loaded into the back of the van, followed by the four men. As quickly as it had arrived, the van disappeared into the dark night.

**8:00pm Eastern Time**

**The White House, Washington D.C.**

Chief of Staff Joshua Morrison swept back his thick mane of jet black hair as he let out a long sigh, switching off a little from the phone call blaring into his ear. The First Lady was always a tough call.

"Laura…please; I really can't be doing with this tonight…I've had a long day."

"Can't be doing with what Josh; all I want is to talk to my husband. You're his Chief of Staff; you should know where he is!"

"You're right, I should. But unfortunately Laura dear, we don't live in a perfect world."

That second, the President strolled into the office, a smile on his face until he saw Josh's seeking face.

"Excuse me for just one second Laura," Josh said with relief as he put her on hold, "Your wife…"

"You mean you don't want to talk to her?" Stephen Byrne said playfully.

"Gee Mr. President, it's tempting but she's requested you. Sorry!"

Byrne smiled and walked towards his office as Joshua put the call through to his office. He heard Stephen answer in his Office and carefully replaced the receiver. It had been a long day, and he looked forward to going back to his apartment and having a well-earned rest. He didn't care how Stephen Byrne had won last year's election; in fact he had won the Presidency by a landslide. But it had been tough, especially guarding his secret. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying to rest for a minute before Stephen returned.

"Feeling tired Josh?" Stephen whispered into the man's ear, awakening him instantly.

He stretched a little, trying to shake off the sleep, "How long was I out?"

"A little while; don't worry about it; I know you've been working hard lately."

"I'm just doing my job Mr. President. Someone had to do it."

"Yes, but not everybody could have done the job you did. There are many secrets in this administration that you have helped keep."

"Some things were unavoidable Stephen; and I believe in what you believe in."

"Good. Because this country and the whole world are going to be going through big changes in the coming months, and we will be the catalysts."

"Starting with the treaty?" Joshua smiled.

"Yes, starting with next week's treaty signing. People may have died, but it wasn't for nothing."

"You don't need to tell me Stephen; I know."  
The two men smiled at each other, exuding relief.  
****

**5:30pm Pacific Daylight Time**

**High Security Prison, Nevada Desert**

The visitor's area of the high security prison was buzzing with activity and smiling faces. Although the prison housed some of the most hardened and despicable criminals ever captured on the west coast; whenever visiting hour began all you could see was smiles. Family members filed in, herding crowds of children desperate to see their Mothers and Fathers. But one man stood out as he ghosted between the crowds and sat down at the booth he had been directed to. The warden who had shown him watched him every step of the way; suspicious of his rough and unkempt appearance. He had a messy, matted straggle of dirty blonde hair that seemed to surround his grubby face. He was a big man, but the way he stood seemed to diminish his fearsome appearance as he shrunk into himself. The warden shook his head, guessing that it must have been another Palmer disciple ready to give his two cents. The man sat – almost crouching – and waited for the man he had come to see; Jack Bauer.

Jack shuffled awkwardly into the prisoner's side of the room, struggling with the ankle restraints that were still used on him almost a year after he was arrested. He had kind of expected another visitor today; after all, his days had been filled with angry Palmer supporters who took the opportunity to take their frustrations out on his apparent murderer. At first he had been stung by their words, but he had very quickly got used to it. He knew he wasn't a murderer, but it was no use telling anyone else that. The evidence against Byrne had died even before Palmer had. Finally his visitor came into view, and again Jack didn't recognize him. After a sigh, he switched his mind off, ready for the usual battery of abuse. He sat down, taking a long breath before lifting his head to look into the man's eyes. But he saw something other than hate in the man's eyes.

"Jack Bauer?" the man spoke softly.

"Yes?" he replied impatiently.

"You're probably wondering who I am…"

"I'm past caring to be honest, just say what you have to say…"

"I don't think you understand Agent Bauer…"

"I'm not an Agent anymore, apparently I'm a murderer."

"You're not, Jack."  
Jack's heart skipped a beat, "What did you just say?"

"You're not a murderer Jack…I know who killed David Palmer."

"Who are you?" Jack whispered, barely daring to breathe.

"Roger Frederick…"

Jack's heart almost stopped as Roger revealed his identity. He had memorized every single detail of his worst day, including Roger's face; the face of the man who could have stopped it all. He felt conflicting emotions as he stared at this man; one of hate and one of desperation.

"I've thought so much about this moment, and what I was going to say to you. I still don't know."

"You could start by telling me why you disappeared a year ago…"

"Oh come on Jack, what did you think I was going to do? That chip was completely scrambled; by the time I got anything of substance off of it Stephen Byrne had taken control of the country. If I surfaced with that evidence I wouldn't last five minutes."

"Where have you been for a year anyway?"

"Living off the grid; being a different person. People I knew have died simply because they knew me. I guess until they find my body they won't stop looking. I'm a marked man; just like you were."

"Why did you come here then?" Jack said, his voice straining with emotion, "Why risk everything just to dangle hope in front of my face?"

"Because the evidence exists Jack…this chip destroys Stephen Byrne and everyone associated with him. As soon as the opportunity presents itself, so will the evidence," Jack began to reply, but was cut off before he could, "I have to go, people are watching me."

"No…wait!" Jack cried, but Roger was already on his way out. Wardens and visitors alike watched him leave with interest and suspicion, but Jack didn't care. He was watching his only hope of freedom disappear.

**Jack thought his life was all but over…but then a new day began…**

**24: Ground Zero…coming soon…**


	2. Episode 201 12:00am to 1:00am

24: Ground Zero

Episode 2.01: "Day 2: 12:00am to 1:00am"

By

Chris Wright

Based on the television series 24

And

24: End of an Era

24: Ground Zero – Day 2: 12:00am - 1:00am 

"**The following takes place between 12:00am and 1:00am, on Friday 28th March, 2008…"**

**12:00am Pacific Daylight Time**

**The skies above Arizona**

The private diplomatic flight glided gracefully through the clear skies towards Los Angeles and began to make its final approach. Inside the luxury plane, three men and one woman in simple but elegant suits sat around a small conference table. They looked solemn, but there were hints of smiles in the corners of their mouths. You wouldn't have guessed from their slouching postures, but these three men were the most powerful people in their countries; the British and Italian Prime Ministers, the French President and the German Chancellor. Their flight had left London almost eleven hours ago, and the lengthy flight had begun to take its toll. The room was quiet, with only the quiet hum of the aircraft's engines constantly in the background. The British Prime Minister was the first to look up; quietly scanning the faces of the people he was sharing the room with. He raised his glass and proposed a small toast.

"I know having a 'car-pool' as the Americans put it is an unusual practice for people of our stature, but I have enjoyed this time we have had together. I hope that in this increasing spirit of unity that the World is experiencing, we can continue to avoid all traces of War and terrorism on our countries. To peace…"  
"To peace," the people around the table echoed, smiles beginning to cross their faces. They sank the small dregs of champagne and placed their glasses back on the table. They had talked so much already on the flight that there was very little left to say. They needed to keep something fresh for the summit after all. Everyone seemed relaxed in the room except the German Chancellor Heidi Kohler; an expression which Prime Minister Michael Brand noticed with a frown.

"What's wrong Heidi? You should be smiling today of all days!"

"It shouldn't be President Byrne chairing this meeting…"

A deathly hush fell over the group as they remembered David Palmer. It was almost a year to the day since he was killed by an ex-Government Agent.

Details were like hen's teeth about that day, with many different stories flying around. Some people claimed that Jack killed Palmer in a schizophrenic rage over the death of his daughter. But then there were some who claimed – certainly due to raging imaginations – that the death was part of some huge conspiracy, and that it may not even have been this Agent pulling the trigger. But these people were insane and had disappeared underground in America once the backlash against their beliefs had begun. David Palmer had been a great man, and had once been great friends with the German Chancellor, explaining her grim thoughts.

"Heidi…I know you were very close to President Palmer; but Stephen Byrne is the next best thing to having David in Government. His views may be a little radical, but he is getting results. We have to give him a chance," Michael whispered.

"I know, I know," she murmured solemnly, "I just miss him, that's all. We all do."

There were nods around the table as each person remembered him in their heads. He was a great man, but there were more pressing issues at hand. A voice buzzed over the intercom, causing everyone to turn to face the source.

"Beginning final approach…we should land in about half an hour."

The Prime Minister turned back to face his comrades and smiled, "By the end of today, great things will have been achieved in the name of peace. Terror has no place in today's world; let's make sure that's our message."

The other leaders nodded in appreciation, showing that they agreed wholeheartedly.

Not too far away in the cockpit of the jet, three men nervously made their final preparations for landing. The pilot and co-pilot were working on most of the controls while the navigator made sure there were no accidents before they got there. But suddenly something caught that man's eye.

"Emmm…guys? There's something showing up on the radar…"

"The two pilots turned around quickly, knowing that this could mean something very bad."

"Any idea what it is?"

"It's an unidentified vessel; but it could be a pleasure flight…"  
"At twenty thousand feet? Put out a call, get them on the phone."

The navigator did as he was told while the pilots turned back around. The co-pilot looked to his colleague with a frightened expression on his face; one which he acknowledged.

"It's probably nothing…"

"I hope so," the co-pilot replied, "These aren't just normal civilians we're carrying."

They heard the navigator attempting to contact the unidentified vessel without success, making the co-pilot grow more panicked as each unsuccessful call came back.

"I'm calling air traffic…" the co-pilot said, reaching for the radio.  
"It could be nothing," the pilot responded quietly, in a tone of voice that suggested that he didn't believe his own words. The look he was returned suggested that as well.

A little further west, John Craig ran his hands through his thick mane of rapidly-graying hair. His job as chief controller of Van Nuys airport was often stressful, but right now he was enjoying a quiet patch. His screens were still fairly busy, but the multitude of staff he had sitting around the bank of computer screens saw to that. To most normal people, the images on the screens were just jumbles of green dots, lines and blips, but to John they were pieces of complicated art that told him a thousand things. From looking at any one screen for a few seconds, he could tell where a plane was going, when it would land and even why it was in the air in the first place. It was a complicated and difficult job, but John had been doing this for thirty years, and he was damn good at his job. As he looked at his watch, there was a flurry of activity to his right as the new shift entered the long room. He smiled a little at how lucky these people were; he still had another six hours to go. The new staff found their shadow staff and began to take their places in the less than comfy chairs. In less than twenty seconds, all old staff were making their way away; all except one, who was still remonstrating with his replacement. John frowned a little and approached, his frown growing even more as he began to hear their conversation.

"What's going on here?" he inquired in a loud voice, making the frightened looking workers jump.

"Mr. Craig, we've got a problem with a diplomatic flight heading to LAX…"

"So why are they calling us?"

"We're the closest tower, and they may need to make an emergency landing."

"Is there an emergency on board?"

"No, but they say there's an unidentified aircraft tailing them, and it won't respond to any of their calls."

"Can you contact them?" John murmured with a note of suspicion in his voice.

"No, they're not responding to us either."

"What's the aircraft signature?" John said with his voice raised, already reaching for the phone to call the appropriate services.

"It's a Cessna 406…"

"No pleasure flight goes that high," John murmured, the worst case scenario suddenly looming large in his mind. He reached for the phone and called Beale Air Force Base, knowing that it would be better to get them involved earlier. But as he waited for an answer, a deathly silence fell over everyone watching the screen as the two green blips representing the approaching planes got to within millimeters of each other.

Back on the plane, unbeknownst to the four VIPs in the conference room, the Cessna drew to within a hundred feet of them. But the navigator was watching every second in horror.

"They're right behind us!" he cried over the proximity alarms that had just begun to blare all around them.

"We need to get down Paul…and land at Van Nuys. This plane is following us and could be here to shoot us down," the co-pilot yelled to his colleague in the main seat.

"I'm not doing anything until Van Nuys tower gets back to us."

"Paul! We have to do this now or it'll be too…"

The co-pilots words didn't finish leaving his breathless lungs before a large shudder rocked the plane to the very foundations. It continued to shake for many seconds before coming to a deathly standstill and continuing on its course. For another long pause, no-one dared say anything, afraid that if they did they might bring about the apocalypse. Their silence was broken by a raspy, furious voice coming over the intercom.

"What the hell just happened!" Prime Minister Brand yelled, with the sound of unrest in the background.

Back at Van Nuys tower, the workers were breathing again as the dots began to separate. John put it down to a close-call, but he was very far from the truth. He left word with his controllers to organize an emergency landing for the plane, and slipped away, readying himself for the most important arrival that this airfield had had in a long time.

**12:07am Pacific Daylight Time**

**High Security Prison, Nevada Desert**

The brisk footsteps of Angela Bennett's high-heeled shoes resonated against the floor of the prison corridor she found herself in. She had made this journey hundreds of times over the past six months and wondered how much longer she would be making it. The corridor was completely empty, devoid of any guards due to the ungodly hour. Almost all of the prisoners cased in that hell-hole were locked up for the night, unable to walk as they pleased and cat-call her. She was glad of that, but she knew that one prisoner would still be awake. He never slept. Not since he got there. She began to smile as she reached the security gate, watched over by the kindly Warden Smart; an old African-American man who always had something to say.

"Hey Abe, how's it going?" Kelly smiled as she signed on the usual sheet.

"Alright Ms. Bennett; same old same old. It's kinda late…you should be home in bed."  
"You wish Abe…" she batted her eyelids flirtatiously.

"You'll be the death of me Ms. Bennett," he wheezed in the noise that replaced his hearty laugh of old. Kelly had always admired this man, despite only seeing him when she came here on business. She didn't know why, but she felt a link to him; probably due to the extended periods of time she spent talking to him when she should have been at home writing up case notes. He was a fascinating man, and one she wished she could see more often.

"Officer Leyland is waiting just inside to take you to the prisoner Kelly. I assume that's why you're here."

"Why else would anybody come here?" she smiled, looking at the floor; uncomfortable having to talk about her client.

"You should be careful not to get too involved in a dead man's plight Ms. Bennett."

"I am involved; I'm his lawyer."

"Do you really think you can defend this man Angela?" Abe asked in a surprisingly powerful voice. Both the tone, and being called by her first name, shocked Angela to the core.

"Yes I do," she replied flippantly, beginning to move through the security gate. Abe went to call after her but stopped, shaking his head a little as he watched her move briskly away; her shoulder length brown hair and toned behind bouncing seductively. He was a little angry at himself for what he said, but he couldn't help but admire how beautiful Angela Bennett was.

Her deep, dark brown eyes were like pools of mysterious water that seemed to draw anything around it inside. Her lips were full and welcoming, moving seductively as she spoke in her softened Brooklyn accent. Her front teeth protruded a little, to the point of being noticeable, but that only made her look cuter still. Unfortunately, she didn't see herself the way others did.

Angela rounded the corner following the security gate, and found the Officer in charge waiting for her impatiently. He had never liked her, ever since he first had a confrontation with her.

"Officer Leyland," Angela acknowledged flatly, extending her hand to the man.

"Good to see you again Ms. Bennett," Leyland said with more than a hint of sarcasm. The two began to walk through continually increasing levels of security, refusing to exchange any kind words until he broke the peace with his usual inquisition.

"So why are you here this time?"

"We have some work to do before the trail this afternoon."

"The trial?" Leyland smirked, "Another one?"

"The appeal," Angela replied, growing tired of this man.

"That's funny; appeals are usually held when there's a miscarriage of justice; not when the defendant doesn't have a leg to stand on."

The two stopped before the door to the prison library; the place that Angela had decided long ago was the best meeting area for her and her client. And as usual, Leyland had angered her right before she had to leave.

"That's your opinion Officer, but we don't usually agree."

"Maybe you should. What makes you think he's innocent? What makes you think that he isn't the murderer he clearly is?"

"I trust him."

Leyland let out a chuckle, "No-one trusts Jack Bauer."  
He turned and punched a code into the door and they slid open, revealing the well-stocked library. Leyland let out a semi-polite smile and watched as Angela entered. As the door slid shut, he cursed the woman and the fights he always had with her. _So hot though…_ he thought to himself, smiling as he moved away from the library.

Angela sat down at the large ornate table and laid out the papers she would be using, suddenly stopping as she heard a door behind her open. As she turned, she saw the man who had become her life for six months. Jack Bauer.

The Jack Bauer that most people remembered had disappeared months ago; now all anyone saw was an empty shell. His usually short blonde hair was now matted and straggly, and Angela had lost track of the last time he had been clean-shaven. He shuffled along, more from a lack of movement and exercise than anything else. His once bright and intelligent eyes were now dull and lifeless having given up watching the world a long time ago. He smiled a little upon seeing her, but it was a smile more of courtesy than anything with any foundation. Two guards followed him, looks of anger and frustration on their faces. Angela assumed that these guards were Democratic voters who were loyal to David Palmer; she had encountered many of them, and stopped even more from hurting her client. The bruises on his face and arms were war wounds from running battles in this prison that he never won. He eased himself into the chair beside Angela and sighed deeply.

"Leave us," Angela said flatly, not taking her eyes off Jack's bowed head. The guards looked at each other and then shrugged, turning to leave the room. She watched them walk slowly out and lock the door behind them, leaving them completely alone and completely contained in the large, echoing library. She turned back to Jack and reached for his hand, placing hers on his.

"How you holding up Jack?" she whispered.

There was no response from him; he simply stared at the ground in his own world. Angela moved her hand from his and moved it to under his chin, raising his head to face her. Then slowly and ever so carefully, she moved to his face and pressed her lips to his.

At first there was nothing from Jack, but then the kiss stirred up his emotions and his lips moved with hers in harmony. She had one hand on his un-shaven cheek as she enjoyed every second of it; tongues tenderly meeting for a few seconds. Angela began to pull away from him, but his animal instincts had taken hold as he held her face with both hands, taking every second of the kiss like it would be his last. After around a minute, they broke and Angela saw the same fire that was in his eyes after every kiss they had shared. She smiled with deep contentment.

"Is that better?" she smiled.

**12:13am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Counter Terrorist Unit, Los Angeles**

The Counter Terrorist Unit had changed a lot since its last longest day in both appearance and personnel. Since Stephen Byrne became President, he refused to allocate the large funding CTU had been used to. As a result, it had diminished in both grandeur and size. The usually fresh, bright furnishing and appearance had become dark and dingy. It hadn't been in as bad a shape since being bombed all those years ago. Staff had also diminished, but that was not a result of budget cutbacks; more because of the new President's guilt. Director Bill Buchanan stood at the window of his Directors Office; seeing it as the last luxury this building held. He sighed as he looked out across the floor at his diminished workforce, now only around fifty percent of the usual numbers. Some had been made redundant and offered huge packages as good will. It seemed as though Byrne's solution to everything was to downsize and then throw money at it. It had worked so far, but he had no idea why he was being blind to the terrorism that still threatened US soil.

He had been approached nine months ago by the new Secretary of Homeland Security and asked to leave his job as Associate Special Agent in Charge at Division to move to a floundering CTU. He had thought about rejecting the job offer, but there was something about the desperation of the offer that compelled him to accept. And when he arrived at his new office, he was shocked at the condition he found the place in. Many experienced and high ranking staff members had been fired in mysterious circumstances; leaving only a few competent members left. Bill had asked for extra help but his pleas went un-noticed due to what the Government called 'lack of funding'. Eventually he simply stopped trying and began to make do with what he had; and hope that that would be enough.

He looked at his watch back in the real world and sighed, brushing what was left of his silvery hair back. The new shift began at midnight, but most of the dedicated – if not gifted – analysts were still working on their systems; including his most dedicated, and arguably most gifted.

Milo Pressman was still munching on his cup of mixed nuts as he stared absent mindedly at the jumbled mess of characters that filled his screen. He also looked at his watch and wondered whether he should just get home. He had been working on this remedial decryption task for hours and didn't see any progress. He glanced up to the Director's office and noticed Bill Buchanan watching him, also looking very tired. He smiled a little, glad that he had been given a second chance at CTU by this man. But his attention was broken by his desk-phone ringing, and as he turned around he noticed who was calling.

"Hey Melanie," he sighed, "What's up?"

"Was just wondering if you were ever going to leave tonight…" she cooed seductively.

"Maybe in a while Mel, I just wanted to get something done on this."

"Come on Milo…everyone has to have fun sometimes…"

"Give me about a half hour, I'll leave then."

"You're no fun Milo…"

"Neither are you Mel."

"Oh I'm plenty of fun…you just haven't found that out yet."

Melanie ended the call, leaving Milo smiling a little but also feeling a little awkward. He was enjoying the attention Melanie was giving him, but it was getting a little much lately. He sighed a little and leaned back in his chair, resuming the work he was doing.

**12:17am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Van Nuys Airport, Los Angeles**

The small plane carrying the four leaders taxied in the direction the quickly assembled group of security and welcoming staff seeming like nothing was wrong. But inside the plane it was chaos. Michael Brand hadn't stopped ranting since their near miss midair almost half an hour ago. He was now staring impatiently out of the window, desperate to leave the plane. He watched a small group of people break away from the assembled throng and managed an uneasy smile. He certainly didn't envy the job this landing had provided them with.

John Craig was still sweating even in the cool night air. Ever since it had been decided that the flight would land at his airport, he hadn't stopped making calls or shouting at his workers. Most landings in his department were simple industrial or pleasure; so he had no idea how to act with such important people. The plane stopped around fifty yards away and the humble ladders were driven over. John had to smile at the thought of the large-scale Presidential welcome party that was at LAX going unused. He intended to take this opportunity he had been handed. The door to the plane swung open, and the frightened looking passengers filed out quickly. There was no red carpet, so John hurried forward as the most senior dignitary they could find in the building. The Prime Minister walked first, seemingly trying to take control of the messy situation.

"Prime Minister Brand," John smiled warmly, extending his hand, "I'm Senior Controller John Craig."

Michael shook it, but only as a matter of courtesy, "Good. Then maybe you can shed some light on this terrible situation. Our pilots haven't been too helpful."

"I'm afraid we know as much as your pilots Sir. There was a close call, but we believe it was just a pleasure flight and they weren't paying attention."

John was smiling, but he could almost feel Michael peering directly into his brain. There were a few seconds of silence before Michael looked away and began to walk past.

"Alright. Has the President been notified of the changes?"

"As of yet no; we're still trying to get hold of him."

"Good. I want to be the one who speaks."

John watched in helplessness as the Prime Minister strolled quickly away. Although he had hardly been the kindest man he had ever met, Michael Brand exuded a certain strange power that John could only admire. He followed, finding it the only thing to do as he pulled his phone out and tried again to contact the President.

**12:23am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Mount Wilson Observatory, San Gabriel Mountains**

The tall, simple observatory stood out on the edge of the San Gabriel Mountains like a guard watching over his quarry. There were no lights around the outside of the building having all been broken by the teenagers who used it for target practice with stones, air rifles and bottles. But it had long since been left alone as more and more trees grew up towards the night sky and gave it the appearance of a haunted forest. The only road leading to the building wound around and down the mountain towards the bright lights of Los Angeles and civilization.

This was the view that Ivan Gresko had from the top of the observatory as he waited for his contact.

He and his team had arrived at LAX only six hours before, and had spent the rest of the time traveling to this remote area that served as a meeting place. His team consisted of only three other men, but with them he felt invincible; two men patrolled the outside while the other stood watching and waiting for their contact to appear. Ivan heard a sigh from beside him, and he turned to see Vladimir still watching.

"Where are they Ivan? They said they would be here by midnight," his most trusted comrade said with impatience in fluent Ukrainian.

"They'll be here; they need us as much as we need them."

"They need us a hell of a lot more Ivan; it was them that approached us for this plan."

"There's no need to be so edgy Vladimir; the way President Byrne has been treating terrorism lately we have no need to worry."

He was about to reply when he noticed headlights traveling their way up the winding road towards them.

"I guess you're right Ivan. Let's just hope they deliver."

"They will. We both want the same things."

Ivan and Vladimir strolled casually out onto the rough gravel surrounding of the observatory and shivered a little in the cold night air. The small fleet of three unmarked cars was drawing closer, and Ivan could feel the eyes of his two sentries watching and listening for every moment of the conversation that would take place. They held highly accurate rifles that could easily take out any trouble-makers before they could even react, and that fact made Ivan feel very safe. No-one would be double-crossed today.

The cars drew up slowly, their blacked-out windows making sure nobody saw inside. But as the doors opened, a man quite unlike what he expected stepped out.

He was a tall, strong looking man, but not in the way warriors like him were. He was more intellectual looking than strong, but despite that he looked confident. He had heard that Kevin Cassel was often regarded as confident.

"Ivan! Bloody pleased to meet you at last."

The two men shook hands while Vladimir nervously watched Cassel's cohorts exiting their vehicles. He counted at least six men which had violated the agreement that had been set in place way back in the Ukraine.

"You were only meant to bring three people Mr. Cassel," he said with suspicion, eyeing the slowly advancing group.

"Oh well, no harm done," he remarked flippantly, turning back to Ivan, "Shall we do this?"

"No harm done? There was an agreement Mr. Cassel, one which you entered into."

"Oh yes, and that agreement was formed with your people back in Ukraine, wasn't it?"

"Yes, you know it was."  
"Am I right in thinking you killed them about a fortnight ago?"

A hush fell over the Ukrainian side of the group, with Ivan almost feeling the weapons being trained on these new arrivals in anger. He turned and shook his head a little, trying to stop the incident before it began. Unfortunately for him, Cassel noticed the move.

"So how many people are watching us then Ivan? One? Two?"

Ivan switched the weight on his feet, trying to avoid the question without success.

"Ivan, you can't keep anything from me. Right now, I have five snipers waiting on any signal to blow every one of your men away…including the two that have their sights trained on me."

Cassel deliberately left the words hanging in the air for maximum impact, pausing for a long second to let them sink in. When he spoke again, he used his coaxing businessman voice that everybody seemed to cave in to.

"Listen Ivan, I know we entered into an agreement, but that was held with a dead man. We have the chance to make a new deal; one which is favorable to both of our goals."

"And what if we don't?"

The atmosphere thinned, and each side could almost feel the sights of their enemies burning a hole.

"Then we blow you away. And nothing is solved."

Ivan looked to the ground as if pondering his options, but when he looked back up he had a large smile on his face.

"Let's talk Kevin."

"Actually, I'll talk and you can listen right now," Kevin snapped after he realized his time had been wasted so far, "The first plan has already been set in motion without your help, and it will happen within the hour."

"What! This wasn't part of the deal Kevin!"

"The deal? You voided that deal; and now we have a new one."

Ivan shook his head and turned away, beginning to walk slowly back towards the observatory, "If you jeopardize this plan…" he muttered before trailing off.

But this action drew Cassel's famous anger as he lunged forward with no regard for his own safety at the hands of the snipers. He caught up with Ivan and almost lifted the larger man off the ground with the force of his anger. He spun round and found himself staring into the sparkling anger of his enemy's eyes.

"Don't think that you are in charge of this plan for one second Ivan. I have spent twelve months planning my revenge on the President and this country, and no alternative agenda or power trip will distract me from that goal. If I say that I want to fire off a little warning shot to let them know we mean business, then I will do exactly that."

"Be careful Kevin," Ivan croaked, just able to get the words out of his rapidly narrowing throat, "My snipers will take you down."

"That would be very…unwise. Call them off."

"Let me go…"

"Call…them…off," Cassel said with conviction.

The two men locked eyes, and Vladimir could almost feel the testosterone as they tried each others patience and mettle. But the upper hand was always with Cassel, as was the argument within a few seconds.

"Return to the observatory…Now." Ivan murmured into his radio as Cassel let go of him. He took a second to compose and straighten himself before he spoke to this man who had dared to challenge him.

"So what does this plan entail then Mr. Cassel?"

Cassel began to walk away towards the entrance to the observatory, signaling for his men to follow him, "You'll see," he fired back without turning around.

**12:30am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Hollywood Reservoir, North Los Angeles**

The deathly quiet landscape of the Hollywood Reservoir was broken by the sound of running footsteps on the sculpted dam holding back billions of gallons of water. Three dark figures clothed completely in black sprinted along the edge of the dam; only stopping when they reached the half-way point. Ropes were fastened onto one of the men's belts and he was sent over the edge with no hesitation. The other two held him fast while he fixed a back-pack sized object to the vertical side of the dam wall. He took his time to set the charge before tugging a little on the rope. He was dragged upwards and back over the edge, just as the timer on the bomb they had placed ticked down from its thirty minute limit.

As quickly as they had arrived, the group left; sprinting towards the broken open gate. They would have to be far down the road in thirty minutes time.

**12:34am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Downey Field, Downey, Los Angeles**

George Mason sighed and flipped down the sun-visor in his luxury Sedan. The small scrap of paper he had been looking for fluttered down and into his waiting hands. He gave one last look at the desolate features of the address he had been given. He checked the paper one last time and assured himself that it was the right place before slowly swinging his car across the road and into the compound.

For all intents and purposes, Downey Field was abandoned with no hope of return. It had once been a massive constructor of wartime aircraft, but since then they had known little of what to do with it. Eventually the people who owned the site, Vultee Aircraft, simply left the sprawling mass of buildings and tarmac and moved on to pastures new. And this was where George found himself now.

He moved the Sedan at a slow crawl through the outbuildings and came to a stop where he believed he was supposed to. His contact should have been here by now; George had deliberately arrived late so as not to be left waiting. He parked his vehicle and exited slowly, all the while scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. He fingered the butt of the Glock that was hidden in the shoulder holster he was wearing and waited by his car for any sign of his contact. He shivered a little in the cold, blowing on his hands to try and keep warm. He was so wrapped up in that act that he almost didn't hear footsteps approaching from behind him.

He spun around quickly, pointing his gun in the direction of the sounds, "Don't come any closer!" he yelled at the top of his voice. The dark figure seemed to stop in the shadows, but kept its arms firmly by its sides, "Identify yourself!" he yelled louder, getting a little jittery in the face of this unknown figure.

"You don't have to shoot me George, it's me," Tony Almeida murmured as he emerged from the shadows.

"Tony!" George exclaimed, hardly recognizing this man from the one he had worked with for many years, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You were meeting a contact, weren't you?"

George was speechless.

"He never gave you a name did he?

George smiled, realizing suddenly who he was supposed to meet. But he couldn't help but noticing how terrible Tony looked compared to how he remembered him. His usually short jet black hair was now shaggy and tangled. It looked like he still shaved, but not in a few days. But his dark eyes still held their focused power, and right now they were more focused than ever.

"So why here Tony? Why not just find a diner back in civilization?"

"It needed to be somewhere private George, away from anyone who could be watching."

"Tony," George laughed, "You're making this sound like some bad spy film; what is this about?"

Before Tony could reply, another car drew up seemingly from nowhere. Mason grew apprehensive, already feeling a little scared by the whole situation. But he felt a little better when another familiar face emerged in his trademark suit.

"Tony!" Ryan Chapelle exclaimed in the same manner that George had. No words were exchanged for the next few seconds, but you could tell that at least two of them had gotten a whole lot more relaxed.

"So what's happening Tony? Why did you ask us to come here?"

"It's about Jack."

Chapelle sighed audibly, "You need to give up on him Tony; you lost your job over that man."

"I lost my job off my own back; it was nothing to do with Jack."

"Tony; you attempted to hack into the most secure NSA server and got caught. And all because you believed that there was something on there proving Jack was innocent."

"Yeah, you should have got Chloe to do that; she wouldn't have got caught…" George mused, trying to lighten the mood and failing.

"Losing my job didn't matter Ryan; there was nothing keeping me there. Anyway, I understand that you didn't stay there long either…"

Ryan bowed his head, "No thanks to you…"

Tony continued his intense stare, his eyes like fiery coals, "Yes, you were let go because of your connections to me. Your connections to Jack."

"Enough about Jack!" Ryan exclaimed, making both men jump at the intensity of his voice, "Jack Bauer killed President Palmer that night; he doesn't deserve our time."  
"Jack has given his life to this country – and to David Palmer – on many occasions; do you really think he killed him?"

"The evidence is irrefutable Tony."

"I'm not asking you about the evidence Ryan; I'm asking you what you believe. Do you believe in your heart that Jack Bauer killed David Palmer?"

The two men stared into each other's eyes as if to try and make the other submit. But Tony was a focused man, and Ryan had to look away first.

"I don't know…" he murmured, "But I'll be damned if I'm going to waste any more time debating this."

Ryan turned to go back to his car having had enough of Tony's rantings.

"There's evidence Ryan…" Tony called after him.

Ryan stopped; his car keys poised to open the doors and make his escape. But he couldn't leave. Deep down inside, Ryan always suspected that there was some sort of cover-up concerning David Palmer's murder. But anyone covering something that huge up had awesome power, and Ryan was a realist; you couldn't go up against that and win. He had decided to keep his mouth shut a long time ago. But evidence changed everything.

"What kind of evidence?"

"On that day twelve months ago, Curtis was sent to retrieve evidence incriminating someone in David Palmer's administration."

"Incriminating them in what?"

"The plot that took place that day; everything from Kevin Cassel and the Union Station incident to the deaths of Senator Daniels and the cabinet members. They masterminded the whole thing."

"So does Curtis have this evidence?"

"We believed that it was lost when the man holding it…died…in the sewer system."

"Why the pause?" George murmured.

"They never found a body."

The excitement registering on both George's and Ryan's faces seemed to rejuvenate their moods, and suddenly they looked focused again.

"So do we know where this guy is?" Ryan said with hope.

"Curtis has a faint trail on him. I won't lie to you; this guy's lived for twelve months completely under the radar. The people involved in this conspiracy were never uncovered; they may even still be looking for the evidence. But with that we might be able to prove Jack is innocent."

"There's a lot of might's in that Tony. And I don't really know what you're asking us to do."

"Curtis is on his way here. We'll know more when he get's here."

Suddenly everybody seemed to relax. Despite the seemingly remote location, the men could still hear the faint hum of the freeway close-by; reminding them that safety was near. It had been so long since they had been in each other's company that they didn't quite know what to say. But George found something.

"So Ryan…how's Lynne?"

Ryan turned to him and began to scowl, but he couldn't help the smile from spreading over his face.

**12:42am Pacific Daylight Time**

**High Security Prison, Nevada**

Jack threw down the papers he had been reading and let out a guttural cry of anguish. Angela jumped a little, but she had gotten used to that by now. She waited for his breathing to steady a little before responding.

"What's wrong Jack?"

"You keep saying how you'll get me off, but there isn't a hope in hell. I'm either going to prison for the rest of my life or facing the death penalty."

"Don't talk like that," Angela murmured, unable to look at him when he talked like this.

"Why not? Its better being realistic than being disappointed."

"Did you kill David Palmer?"

The directness of Angela's question shocked Jack a little, "No."

"Then you have nothing to worry about do you?"

"We don't have any evidence Angela!" he shouted, giving Angela the chance to jump. She looked away from Jack, unable to meet the hopeless fire in his eyes. He held his look for a few seconds before realizing that he had shouted, and began to backtrack, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice."

"I know. You never do. I just want you to be more hopefully about things."

"It's hard. Twelve months ago I woke up thinking that it would just be another hard day. Twenty-four hours later my daughter was dead and I had been framed for my friend's murder."

"You know you're innocent; you need to speak out."

"What's the point? Who would believe that Byrne killed him to assume the Presidency? It's insane."

"But how can you expect to win this appeal if nobody knows what really happened?"

"We're not going to win Angela. I shouldn't have let you get so close to me."

She placed his hand on his again, giving it a squeeze, "I got close off my own back."

For a second, Jack forgot all about the situation he was in. He was lost in the welcoming scent of Angela's perfume and her deep brown eyes. In them he saw an unreachable future; one where he could be happy. But those thoughts were quickly shaken from his head when he remembered how often he had had those thoughts; and he also remembered how many times they had ended in heartbreak.

"I am not leaving you until you have to get yourself ready for the trial. That gives us…" Angela glanced at her wristwatch, "…just over twelve hours to find some way to get you out of this."

Jack looked into her eyes and again felt the warm glow spread over him. And at that point, he could think of nothing else.

**12:47am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Presidential Retreat, Los Angeles**

President Byrne stood on the balcony staring out into the suburban Los Angeles night. The retreat had been built far away from any kinds of large-scale civilization which gave it a very peaceful feel; especially at this time of night. He stood leaning on the guard rail with his dressing gown blowing in the wind. It was a cool night, but he wasn't feeling it. His thoughts were much colder; and darker.

Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was Jack Bauer's hateful expression as David Palmer fell. He had been a focused man that day, but in hindsight he hated himself. Sure he had assumed the Presidency and enjoyed the most successful first few months of any President; but he wasn't happy, and he was haunted. He was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the sliding doors open as a dark figure emerged into the night. It moved slowly towards him and then wrapped its small frame around him.

"How you doing Steve?" Laura Byrne whispered into her husband's ear as he relaxed in her arms, "I noticed you getting out of bed; can't sleep?"

"You know me and my nerves…" Stephen laughed, trying to snap out of his thoughts.

"Come back to bed…you've got a long day ahead of you."

He groaned, "Don't remind me darling; it isn't every day you chair a G8 meeting."

"Which is exactly why you should get some rest…it's another eleven hours until they arrive here."

"But there's still so much to do…" he moaned as he began to free himself from her grip. But she held him even closer.

"And you employed people to do it for you…come back to bed, and get some sleep."

Stephen smiled and let his wife drag him slowly back into the room, only stopping when a sharp knock filled the room.

"Mr. President; is this a bad time?"

Laura sighed and looked into her husband's eyes, feigning contempt. She mouthed at him that it was alright.

"No, it's alright Josh."

Joshua Morrison slowly entered the room, clearly embarrassed at having to enter the President's living quarters.

"So what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning Josh? Has the Prime Minister become a vegetarian?" Laura sneered playfully.

"I need a minute to speak with the President," he replied wistfully, refusing to crack even a small smile.

"What's this about Josh?" Stephen frowned, suddenly turning serious.

"The Prime Minister is requesting to speak with us both. He says it's urgent."

Now even Laura grew serious.

"I'll be out in a minute," Stephen said, already turning to get dressed. Josh left the room and also the tense atmosphere.

"What do you think he wants to talk about Steve?"

"Well I don't think its place settings at this time in the morning…"

Moments later, Stephen Byrne emerged from the Presidential suite and met his Chief of Staff. He still had a look of tousled tiredness about him, but all trace of the dark thoughts he had been having were now gone in anticipation of what was coming. Josh began walking with Stephen towards the conference room, ready to take the Prime Minister's call.

"What's this about Josh?"

"I don't know Mr. President, he wouldn't reveal anything to me personally…but he sounds pissed."

"Just what we need…"

They entered the room and Josh put the call through, turning on speaker so both men could be involved.

"Alright Mr. Prime Minister, you're on with myself and President Byrne."

"What's this about Michael?" the President got straight to the point.

"Our plane was almost hit just outside California," Michael said, also very direct. Josh could see why these two had become good friends; they were so alike.

"What!"

"We had a near miss; somebody either tried to hit us and missed or just wanted to scare us. And they succeeded Stephen."

"Michael, I'm so sorry that this happened. Are you alright? Were any of you injured?"

"No, no injuries, we're all just a little shaken. We had to land at Van Nuys."

"I trust you are being treated well?"

"Yes, but that isn't the point here Stephen. Air Traffic is claiming this was just a near miss, but we were just under thirty thousand feet. That plane wasn't a pleasure flight; it was a warning."

"What are you saying Michael?"

"I'm saying that we're going to have to be a lot more careful today; people want us dead."

"You mean terrorists?"

"I don't know who they are but..."

"But what you're saying is that there are terrorists trying to derail today's summit. And I want to assure you that no such thing will happen. I will make sure that you have the best Secret Service and law enforcement to make sure there's no more incidents."  
"I hope not Stephen; you have told me and the other leaders many times that this day is all about the abolishment of world terrorism. It would not be wise to let us come to any harm…today of all days."

Michael hung up, leaving Byrne and Joshua hanging in their conference room. The tone he had been using had filled Byrne with apprehension and fear.

"What do you think Josh?"

"About what Mr. President?"

"Is this summit being targeted by terrorists?"

"I think it's a little early to assume such things Mr. President. Would you like me to get CTU to look into this?"

"No, it's alright. You're probably right about it being blown out of all proportion."

Joshua nodded somewhat reluctantly as if he believed this wasn't the best course of action. But Stephen wasn't watching, he was already half-way out of the room.

"Make sure Secret Service sees to the Prime Minister and the other leaders."

Joshua knew better than to ask the President where he was going; he didn't talk much in private, but he was a great man.

**12:56am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Counter Terrorist Unit, Los Angeles**

Milo had just picked up his coat to leave when his desk-phone rang again. He sighed, almost wondering whether or not to answer. Eventually he bent over his chair and picked up the phone.

"Melanie, I'm just coming…"

"Listen carefully to me Mr. Pressman. And if you value your city then I would get Director Buchanan to listen in…" a slightly metallic voice said with no hesitation. Milo paused for only a second before waving over Bill, who happened to be standing close-by helping another analyst. Without speaking, Bill read Milo's expression and patched into the call.

"This is Director of CTU Bill Buchanan; who am I speaking with?"

"The issue is not who I am…but what is going to happen at the Hollywood Reservoir in around five minutes."

"What are you talking about?" Bill said with a shaky voice, feeling his worst nightmares coming right before his eyes.

"Your President has stood behind his false beliefs of the abolishment of World Terrorism for long enough; today he will face his demons."

The line went dead, leaving both men wondering what the hell they had just heard. Milo looked at Bill, hoping that he could shed some light on the situation.

"Check for any cameras near the Hollywood Reservoir."

Milo did as he was told without speaking and pulled up the nearest traffic camera for the roads surrounding the dam. Just as he rotated the feed to give him a clearer view, the terrible sight met his eyes.

There was only a small explosion around the center of the dam, and for the first few moments it seemed like the plan had failed. But soon after the pressure of the water became too much and the cracks grew larger until huge clumps of concrete were fired away from the wall. Gallons of water rushed through the gaps until almost the whole wall collapsed under the pressure; giving around two and a half billion gallons of water rush down the slight slope towards civilization.

**12:58am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Downey Field, Downey, Los Angeles**

The three men watched carefully as another vehicle sped into the compound. They knew it was Curtis, but there was something about the speed of his approach that worried them. He drew up and braked aggressively, almost bouncing out of the car before it had come to a stand-still. Even as he exited, he continued to look behind him as though being followed.

"Curtis? What's wrong?" Tony whispered apprehensively.

"I was being followed; something's wrong here."

Curtis did not take his eyes off the gate he had entered through, seemingly expecting a full army battalion to roll in. And out of the three other men who stood in loose formation, only Tony seemed overly anxious.

"Please tell me you didn't tell anyone about this meeting…"

"I didn't Tony. You told me not to."

"Well somebody must have found out if you've been followed!" Tony cried with growing hysteria.

"I took steps; they weren't following me for the last mile."

"Unless they already knew where you were going…" Tony shouted, his voice getting caught up in the wind. George and Ryan watched him scan the horizon frantically for some unseen source of danger. But they didn't have to wait long for an explanation.

"Curtis…" Tony said in a shaky, highly anxious voice.

The large man turned to face Tony, a look of realization and fear on his face. But that was soon wiped off as the resonating sound of a sniper bullet tore through the complex. George, Ryan and Tony dived for cover as more bullets traveled through the ex-agent's flailing body and buried themselves in the metal of George's Sedan. The three men cowered around the corner of one of the out-buildings, scared to look around in case they too were next. Luckily for them they didn't look, otherwise they would have had to have watched Curtis Manning be torn to pieces by sniper fire; parts of his body going in all directions. Suddenly the complex fell silent, and Curtis's lifeless corpse fell to the floor with a splatter, no longer being held up by the force of the gun-fire. Tony waited a few seconds, holding his hand over his pocket, as if waiting for something. Then suddenly, the sound of a speeding vehicle seemed to surround them.

"Let's go!" Tony cried as he ducked out of his cover and rushed towards the sound. Ryan went to shout after him, but followed instead with George. They saw the red van with its back doors open, reversing at speed towards them. It stopped around fifty feet away from them, giving them a chance to board. Tony jumped on first, and barely gave the other two a chance to get in before slamming the doors behind them. The van sped off into the night, leaving the complex in silence again. Around hundred yards away, the sniper who had killed Curtis Manning lay in his own pool of blood.

12:59:57

12:59:58

12:59:59

**01:00:00**

**Main Cast (in order of appearance)**

Prime Minister Michael Brand – Ben Miles

Angela Bennett – Jorja Fox

Jack Bauer – Kiefer Sutherland

Bill Buchanan – James Morrison

Milo Pressman – Eric Balfour

Melanie Bradshaw – Alexis Bledel

Ivan Gresko – Sean Bean

Vladimir Dminsky – Ryan Gosling

Kevin Cassel – Paul Bettany

George Mason – Xander Berkeley

Tony Almeida – Carlos Bernard

Ryan Chapelle – Paul Schulze

President Stephen Byrne – Tom Wilkinson

First Lady Laura Byrne -

Joshua Morrison – Mark Ruffalo

Curtis Manning – Roger Cross

**Research File Number 1 – The Hollywood Reservoir**

Lake Hollywood is a man-made reservoir built in 1924 to hold more than 2.5 billion gallons of water. The reservoir is part of the Owens River Aqueduct system. The Mulholland Dam was built by engineer William Mulholland who designed and built the system of aqueducts and reservoir providing Los Angeles with most of its drinking water.

Construction began in 1923 and the lake was first filled in 1925.

The dam is located in Weid Canyon, East of Cahuenga Pass. The dam is 210 feet high, 933 feet long and 16 feet wide at the crest with a maximum depth of 183 feet. 172,000 cubic yards of concrete were used for the construction of the Mulholland Dam.

The Mulholland Dam was later reinforced with tons of earth on the downstream side as a precaution after the similar St. Francis Dam burst in 1928. Later studies confirmed that the St. Francis disaster was not caused by a faulty design. A small dam was subsequently built in the northern part of the lake to provide additional reservoir capacity.

As a reservoir for drinking water, the lake is not open for swimming or boating and dogs are not allowed on the perimeter path. In 1974, the California State Department of Health Services directed the Department to further improve water quality and the protection of open distribution reservoirs. In addition to normal environmental exposures faced by open bodies of water, the Upper and Lower Hollywood reservoirs could be contaminated by surface runoff.

The initial plans, in 1988, proposed to install reservoir covers. To protest these plans, 15 community groups (including the HKCC) formed the Coalition to Preserve Open Reservoirs (CPOR). A mediation process in 1990 let to the current solution of buried water storage and a small filtration plant at the base of the dam.

The City of Los Angeles, Department of Water and Power (DWP), is moving toward completion of new water storage facilities next to the Upper and Lower Hollywood Reservoirs. Two of the world's largest underground tanks now store treated water, with new pipelines linking the tanks to the distribution system.

More than one million cubic yards of soil were excavated to make room for the underground storage tanks. Much of that dirt was placed in fill sites in four canyons near the tanks and "landform graded" to blend with contours of the existing hillsides. That same fill has been used to bury the tanks. The earth moving and grading are now complete. Fill sites are being planted and irrigated. The irrigation system will be used for about three or four years. After that, the plants will be able to flourish using only rainwater.

The two new Toyon tanks are now taking over the water storage role previously played by both Hollywood Reservoirs. Even though the reservoirs will remain full in case of emergency, reservoir water will no longer need to be chlorinated. This gives DWP the opportunity to manage the reservoirs using a natural approach – without chlorine – to maintain the ecosystem and keep the water clear, odor-free and of good quality for emergency use.


	3. Episode 202 1:00am to 2:00am

24: Ground Zero

Episode 2.02: "Day 2: 1:00am to 2:00am"

By

Chris Wright

Based on the television series 24

And

24: End of an Era

24: Ground Zero – Day 2: 1:00am - 2:00am 

"**The following takes place between 1:00am and 2:00am, on Friday 28th March, 2008…"**

**1:00am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Northern Los Angeles**

The massive amount of water rushed down the slight slope towards civilization with steady pace. Despite the large volume, it had failed to form a destructive wave; it was simply a raging river. The crumbling dam wall had finally stopped deteriorating, and the hole in it was only around a few meters in diameter; leaving a continuous but largely unthreatening flow of water. It was causing widespread damage, but nothing the authorities couldn't handle. There were reports of one or two casualties, but they were just unlucky to be out so late at night. The people home and sleeping peacefully in their beds would only wake up to damaged homes; but at least they would wake up.

Back at CTU, Buchanan was finally managing to breathe again having heard of the relative lack of damage. But he knew this was just the beginning of something much bigger.

**1:04am Pacific Daylight Time**

**San Gabriel Observatory, Los Angeles**

Ivan paced the length of the main room angrily after watching Cassel's latest idea come to some kind of fruition. But he could be quiet no longer.

"What the fuck was that Kevin?"

"It was our first step to our greater plan."

"No it wasn't; it was a pointless attack that jeopardizes everything."

"I fail to see your point Ivan."

"We were meant to stay discrete until we had the means to mount our main attack; but now you call CTU and tell them that a small attack will take place. They will be looking for us now."

"They can look for us all they want Ivan; they're not going to find us."

"You don't know that."

"Quite the contrary Ivan; I know EXACTLY what I'm talking about," he said in a quiet focused voice, moving slowly towards Ivan, "For you this may be about some crusade, but I am all about revenge. You see things in a different light when all you have to do is think of yourself. I have inside knowledge of the way CTU works, and if they get too close I will deal with it. They are not going to jeopardize this plan comrade."

Cassel placed a hand on Ivan's shoulder, flashing a large smile to diffuse the tension. The large Ukrainian smiled back and said, "You can't blame me for being cautious Kevin."

"No, but I can for you being over-cautious. This attack is only the beginning and as we speak the next phase is underway. We'll leave here in the next few hours."

Cassel slapped Ivan's shoulder as he turned away and moved towards the hastily arranged bank of computer screens that lay against the wall. Ivan had to hand it to Kevin; he certainly had the charisma and cool to make it in the more choice business side of terrorism. But sometimes not worrying could get you killed, and Ivan wasn't going to take that chance with him.

**1:10am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Imperial Highway, Los Angeles**

The red van sped down the highway, passing every vehicle it came across with ease. The pace hadn't let up since they had left the complex, and no answers had been provided either. George and Ryan were still crouched in the back of the cramped van with Tony, both shell-shocked from what had just happened. Curtis had been deliberately taken down because of what he knew, and that meant the two ex-directors were in danger too. Ryan tried to peer beyond the dirty sheet that had been placed between the cabin and the rest of the van, but he saw no-one. Suddenly the van seemed to slow and pull off the highway, eventually stopping in what my have been the hard-shoulder of a side street; the people in the back couldn't be sure. The engine still ran but suddenly there was activity on the other side of the curtain. Tony broke the eerie silence.

"We should be safe now, we're far enough away. Time for you to meet who saved our asses."

The curtain was swept back, and through to the back of the van crawled Michelle Dessler-Almeida who moved up beside Tony, squeezing his hand gratefully.

"Michelle!" Ryan exclaimed, echoing George's thoughts, "What are you doing here?"

"Tony asked me to make sure nothing went wrong with your meeting; including taking out any assassins," there was a distant look in her eyes that showed her regret at letting Curtis die; not just as a friend, but also as the only man who knew where the evidence was.

"So you think Jack's innocent too?"

"Yes I do. He didn't kill David Palmer."

"Looks like we're in the minority here Ryan…" George murmured to his colleague as he stared at the intense and grubby looking couple that now faced them.

"What happened to you?" Ryan continued, "Why did you leave CTU?"

"They kept me in New York until six months ago when Tony was fired; then I guess they thought I'd do more harm than good so they let me go. Somebody tried to make us disappear but we went underground before they could."

"Jesus…" Ryan whispered, almost under his breath. Just over an hour ago he had left his home for what he thought would be a simple meeting, and now they were on the run from assassins. But things always tended to get worse from here, and Ryan had a feeling that they would do just that.

"Well we better get going again sweetheart…" Tony murmured to his wife.

"I'll let Danny know where…" she replied as she turned and moved back to the cabin. Tony flashed a discrete smile to both men that did nothing to alleviate the concerns they felt.

**1:14am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Counter Terrorist Unit, Los Angeles**

Bill Buchanan swallowed audibly and shuffled the papers that lay on the desk in front of him in the Situation Room. He looked up and saw Milo and Melanie looking equally worried, and he certainly knew why. They were about to tell the President of the United States of a terrorist attack that he had worked long and hard to stop. There were going to be questions asked, and Bill wasn't sure how he was going to answer them. But he didn't have any more time to think as the video link opened, showing the President's Chief of Staff, and then the President himself joined him.

"Good morning Mr. President. You're on with myself, Milo Pressman and Melanie Bradshaw."

"Morning Bill, nice to hear from you. I trust everything is alright?"

"Actually no, Mr. President. I am calling to report that Los Angeles has been attacked."  
Byrne's usually jolly face turned to stone in a split second after hearing Bill's words, and it turned an awkward shade of crimson.

"Attacked?" he murmured angrily.

"Yes. A small explosive device was placed on the Hollywood Reservoir and detonated fifteen minutes ago."

"Fifteen minutes ago?" Byrne exclaimed, "And you've taken until now to inform me? What happened!"

"We wanted to get a clearer picture before we brought it to you; and thankfully it isn't as damaging as first thought."

"What damage are we looking at?"

Melanie took a deep breath and made her first address to the President since she had been promoted, "There have been no deaths reported so far; most of the problems are with people who were out on the streets when it happened, mostly the homeless. But they are being seen to by Emergency Services. There will be widespread water damage, but nothing too major. A temporary dam has been set up at the detonation point so the water has stopped flowing."

"So it's being handled then?"

"At the moment Mr. President," Bill murmured, not wanting to speak his next words, "But I think this is just the beginning of something larger."

"What do you mean Bill?"

"We received a warning about the explosion one minute before it went off."

"A warning?"

"Yes. Milo?"

Milo nodded and took over, "This was part of the warning," he said, as he tapped a few buttons on his laptop and brought up the audio player containing a recording of the call. There was a short pause before the file started, playing out the metallic voice that had warned of the attack. Byrne listened, but there was a certain part that chilled him the most.

"Your President has stood behind his false beliefs of the abolishment of World Terrorism for long enough; today he will face his demons…"

Milo tapped his laptop again and closed the player, looking over to Bill to carry on. Byrne's breathing became troubled, and his face had grown redder, as if he was hiding something. Bill shrugged it off.

"Do we know who is responsible for this attack?" Byrne spoke quickly.

"No Mr. President, it was a computerized voice on a scrambled line with enough encryption to keep us busy for weeks."

"Well start working then." Byrne said flippantly.

"We don't have the manpower or the time to concentrate solely on something like this," Bill said with slight venom, resenting the fact that Byrne was probably going to dissolve CTU soon.

"I'll see about sending you over some help. In the meantime you better start working."

"Mr. President," Bill protested, leaning towards the screen for further impact, "These people didn't call us to warn us; they called to make it a spectacle. They knew that this wouldn't kill in large numbers; it was just a smokescreen for something much larger. We can't concentrate all our resources on something like this and wait for them to hit us again!"

Byrne was silent for a second, unable to get the metallic voice that seemed to know too much out of his head.

"Mr. President," Bill raised his voice, shaking Byrne from his thoughts.

"I will see what I can do about more manpower, but right now you'll have to make do," he said firmly, "Now was there anything else?"

"No Mr. President," Bill recoiled, beaten.

"Keep me updated," he finished, closing the conversation and the video link. Bill looked at the two colleagues he had in front of him, but had no words for them before waving them out. The conversation had not gone the way he had hoped.

"Do you want me to contact Division and get CTU more people?" Josh asked the still silent President, sitting pensively.

"No. They'll be alright. They're just bitter that they'll lose their jobs soon."

"But what about these terrorists striking again?"

"They won't." Byrne stated, staring into Joshua's eyes coldly.

Joshua nodded, knowing that this was one of those times that his boss wanted to be alone. He walked quietly out, leaving Byrne staring into space, replaying the metallic voice over and over in his head. He wouldn't tell Josh what he was thinking; but he had a pretty good idea who the voice was.

**1:20am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Suburban Townhouse, Burbank**

Chris Walker eased himself into the welcoming fabric of the living room chair and shut his eyes for a few seconds. He smiled a little to himself, wondering where his day off had gone. He was due back in CTU at midday, and wasn't looking forward to it one bit. He really should have been going to sleep, but his daughter was doing the usual teenage thing of refusing to come home until her parents were suitably worried. And that meant she would be home very soon. He opened one eye slowly as he heard the soft footsteps of his wife entering the room.

"She still not home baby?" he murmured in sleepy tones.

"No, she's not Chris," Janet smiled, feigning a fed-up face at him.

"Has she called at all? You know, communicated?"

"Aww…grumpy old Mr. Walker turning into the overprotective father!" she laughed.

"Turning into? I thought I was since she could walk…"

"She'll be back soon Chris, you worry too much."

Just as she finished, the front door slammed one floor below, and they heard the sound of their daughter's careful footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Morning Sarah…" Chris shouted as the footsteps passed by the living room door. They stopped suddenly, and then her sheepish face peered around the door, already looking apologetic.

"Hey Mom…Hey Dad..."

"And what time do you call this?"

"It's a little after 1am Dad…"

"Ooh a comedian. And where were you?"

"At a party; where normal kids my age go."

"That's wonderful; were you with Sharon?" Chris asked innocently, setting the trap.

"Yeah, she dropped me off."

"Did she now? Then how come she phoned earlier wondering where you were?"

Sarah realized her mistake right away, looking anywhere but into her father's eyes until she could think of something to say. Chris didn't know exactly when his little girl had grown up, but she certainly had. He remembered when she was just a little girl, full of the joys of summer; a crazy mop of curly black hair surrounding her olive-skinned face and piercing blue eyes. She had always been a beautiful girl, and she still was, but now she had gained a rebellious streak. She still had her beautiful eyes, but her black hair was now religiously straightened as many times as she changed her clothes. If he was one of those hear-no-evil-see-no-evil fathers then he would have just labeled Sarah as another lip-gloss teen who only cared about make-up and boys. But lately he had seen a change in her; and he didn't like it.

She stammered her response, "I don't know what you're talking about Dad. She was with me. You sure you've got the right person?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Where were you tonight Sarah?"

"I told you," she mumbled, "I was at a party."

"Don't lie to me!" he rose to his feet in anger at her continued lies.

"Stop it Chris…just let it go…"

His anger seemed to subside a little as his wife placed a careful hand on his arm, drawing his glance away from his slightly frightened daughter.

"Go to your room; we'll talk about this in the morning," she said flatly to her daughter, unwilling to listen to Chris's protests. Sarah quickly moved out of the room and down the hall, leaving behind her warring parents.

"What did you do that for?" Chris rasped, making sure Sarah couldn't hear in the next room.

"You can't question her like that on a hunch."

"It's not just tonight; she's been like this for a long time now. Always coming in at all hours and lying about where she was. I'm not trying to be an ogre; I'm trying to protect her."

"Let her make her own mistakes; she'll grow out of it soon enough."

"She's 17 Janet; she should have grown up by now."  
Before Janet could make another swift rebuttal, Chris's cell-phone rang out loud and clear. He looked down at the caller ID, already knowing who it would be. CTU.

"This is Walker," he answered.

"Chris, its Bill Buchanan."

"Hey Bill; is there so little to do over there that you just want to chat?" he laughed sarcastically.

"I'm afraid not Chris. The Hollywood Reservoir has been bombed; North Los Angeles is almost underwater."

"What!" he exclaimed, surprised at such a brutal attack coming out of the blue, "Did we receive a warning?"

"Of sorts. Around sixty seconds before the blast we were told to check security feeds. They wanted us to watch it blow."

He looked over to his wife and saw a knowing expression, followed by a nod, suggesting that she knew what he was going to say next.

"I'll be there in around a half hour Bill," he said, already moving for the door, "Do you think there will be follow up attacks?"

"G8 is in town today Chris; we can't take any chances."

"Alright. I'll see you soon."

Chris hung up and slipped into his bedroom, throwing off his bath-robe and replacing it with something smarter. He had a feeling that it was going to be another long day.

Sarah peered out of her room to find her mother pacing the hall nervously.

"He was called in…" she answered before she was asked.

"To serve the fascist Government and kill people…I'm thrilled…" Sarah murmured before disappearing back into her room. Janet shook her head and followed her husband into the bedroom, not giving her daughter's words a second thought.

**1:28am Pacific Daylight Time**

**East Cypress Avenue, Burbank**

The people in the back of the van felt their vehicle move slowly to a stop, and then heard the front doors creaking open.

"We're here," Tony said with relief as he moved to open the back doors. As he did, the wave of cold air that hit them refreshed their senses. But as they stepped out, they were surprised to find themselves outside Michelle and Tony's house.

"Your house?" George asked with surprise, "That's original."

"It's only until we think of what to do. We shouldn't be here long."

Before he could reply, George saw Michelle approach with a slightly older man.

"Guys," Tony began, "I want to introduce you to Danny Dessler; my brother in law."

Ryan and George were speechless as they shook the extended arm of this man, suspending all belief in the situation they now found themselves falling head first into.

"Don't worry," he quipped, "I don't have anything better to do right now."

The whole group turned and moved to the house, all the while with Tony looking nervously around the surroundings of the face he had felt safe in for years.

The interior of the house was nothing like the respectable exterior. Books and papers were strewn all over the floor, and it seemed like they were collecting all kinds of computers. George even remarked to himself that it looked just like how he expected Chloe O'Brian's house to look like; not the ex-director and second in command's. But it was safety, and that was something he was craving right now. Michelle busily cleared the papers from the sofa to give their visitors a seat.

"You don't need to pander after us anymore Michelle," George smiled, "We're not your boss anymore."

"I'm sorry for the mess; we've just been a little pre-occupied lately."

"It's alright; you saved our lives after all," Chapelle said gravely, reverting back to his commanding personality.

"I'll get us some drinks," Michelle murmured, turning to leave.

"I'll help," Danny blurted, quickly following. Everyone could tell that neither of these people wanted to be present for the conversation that would follow.

"I suppose we better talk…" Tony murmured, finally breaking the ice.

"Yeah, we better. And you better start telling us why people just tried to kill us!" Ryan exclaimed.

"For the same reason they fired us all Ryan. Because we know too much."

"I don't know anything Tony, nothing that would put me on a death list. And I wasn't fired, I was demoted."

"Well it doesn't matter if you say you don't know Ryan; they obviously think you do."

Ryan sprung out of his chair in frustration, "I don't even care about Jack Bauer!"

"He saved your life Ryan. Show some respect."

"But he killed David Palmer!"

"We've been through this already this morning Ryan; I'm not going to do it again. If you want to leave here then nothing's stopping you; but somebody wants you dead, and I guarantee that if you leave here you will be dead within the hour."

Ryan stopped pacing and stared down at Tony, suddenly seeing a focused but terrified look on his face. It was one that Ryan had never seen; even during their many arguments at CTU, and it terrified him in equal measures. He sat back down on his chair and collected his thoughts.

"So why do you think they want to kill us? What happened twelve months ago?"

"I wish I knew. All I know is that when Jack left CTU, he knew something was going to happen to David Palmer. But he went to protect him, not to kill him."

"So who killed him then? Wasn't there a police report?"

"No, there was nothing. They said it was because of the sensitivity of the information and the risk of it going public…but they're covering something up."

"Tony; don't think that I'm going on with this, but who else could have killed him if it wasn't Jack? It may not have made sense that he did it; but somebody else being in that room doesn't either. Jack would have talked by now; he's facing the death penalty Tony!"

"Jack wouldn't talk unless he knew where the evidence was; and right now unless we find this man Roger Frederick then Jack's going to the injection chamber."

"And you think that he knows who killed David Palmer?"

"He may not know, but he certainly has something that does."

The three men were silent for a second as if pondering their options. But unfortunately, none of them knew where to start.

**1:34am Pacific Daylight Time**

**High Security Prison, Nevada**

Jack tuned out for a second with Angela's soft, sexy tones flowing into his ears. They had spent the last hour going over every last chance of a loop-hole but had found absolutely nothing. He wasn't too upset though; he had accepted that he was probably going to be found guilty a long time ago. His trial was only a few hours away, and as soon as it was over he could get on with the short remainder of his life. Although Angela had come into his life and made such a difference, he sometimes wished she hadn't. Once Kim had died, he had been left with nothing; which gave him no-one to think about but himself. This was a state of mind that Jack had never been subject to, but once he was there he realized how much better off he was. With no-one else to worry about, he no longer feared death.

"…are you listening to me Jack?"

Jack was shaken from his thoughts and found Angela staring at him with a knowing expression on her face.

"I might have tuned out for a second…"

"So I gathered. I know this is hard for you Jack but we really need to try and find something that goes in your favor."

"We've only got twelve hours Angela…"

"You didn't do this Jack; there's evidence out there somewhere."

"Of course there is, but not in the time we have."

Something in the way Jack said the words lit a torch in Angela's brain.

"What do you mean?"

Jack stared at her, not understanding what she was trying to say.

"Do you know of any evidence?"

"There's really no chance that it still exists. Twelve months ago the man holding it disappeared."

"What do you mean disappeared?" Angela said quickly, her lawyers mind determined to get exactly what she needed to know out of Jack, "Is he dead?"

"We thought he was…"

"But he's not?"

"No, he survived the attack and staged his own death leaving one of our agents behind."

"How do you know this?"

Jack shifted a little in his seat, not wanting to tell Angela at this late stage about Roger's visit a few weeks ago.

"Jack, tell me how you know this."

He shifted more, paused, and then said, "That man visited me a few weeks ago."

Angela nodded slowly and then quickly got to her feet, lifting her suit jacket from the back of her chair.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked in confusion.

"Well there's no point wasting time here when there's someone out there who can prove you're innocent. I'm going to find him."

"No," Jack said clearly as he stood up and grabbed Angela's arm as she began to move away, "Please don't."

Angela looked down at her arm, feeling a little pain through the shock at Jack's outburst. They locked eyes for a few seconds before he let go, feeling disgusted at what he was doing. He turned back and tried a different approach.

"I'm asking you not to do this. It isn't safe."

"What's not safe about it?"

"This man has evidence – incendiary evidence – and you're not the only one who's going to be looking for him."

"I'm a big girl Jack; I can take care of myself."

"Angela!" Jack called after her as she walked briskly out of the library, "Dammit Angela, you don't understand what you're getting into!"

"Yes I do Jack; I'm trying to help a man I care about."

The doors opened and Angela became flanked by two security guards as she left. They quickly moved to restrain Jack as he tried to follow.

"Angela!" he shouted again to no avail. The guards stood threateningly in front of him; just waiting for the opportunity to inflict more pain on their favorite punch-bag. They didn't get the chance though; as Jack lost sight of Angela, he held out his arms to be re-cuffed. Within seconds he was on his way back to his cell; apprehensive and tense about what Angela was getting herself into.

Angela walked briskly back through each security gate without looking back. But she had to stop as Officer Leyland stepped out from his office and into her path. He wore a sarcastic smile that just oozed smarmy confidence.

"Going already Ms. Bennet?"

"I'm following up on a lead," Angela replied, trying to move past but still being blocked.

"And still you pursue the impossible dream…you know I should admire you."

"Whatever Leyland," she sneered, again trying to push past. Leyland smiled and stepped theatrically out of the way, watching her leave. As soon as she had rounded the corner to the final security gate, he pulled his cell-phone out of his pocket and dialed the number that had recently been programmed into it. He waited for an answer which came almost immediately.

"Yes?" the voice on the other end of the phone said in a broad Texan accent.

"James it's me. Angela Bennet just left the prison. She said she was following up on a lead."

"Did she say anything else?"

"No. She hates me; not as if she would tell me anything else."

"Alright. Thank you Wayne, it'll be taken care of."

Leyland snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket. He retreated into his office just too late to see Warden Smart appear from around the corner with a look on his face that suggested he had heard every word.

**1:39am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Building Site, Los Angeles**

Roger slipped silently through the sheet covering the door and into the slum-like abode that he called home. From where he was, he could hear the noise of traffic traversing the South La Cienega Boulevard outside. But no cars stopped in this part of town, there was nothing to see. From the one prison-like window Roger could see small clusters of temporary building sites that promised a lot but provided nothing. Ten years ago City Hall had promised development of this area, but nothing had come of it. But that gave Roger no reason to worry; he would not be disturbed any time soon.

He had 'moved in' to the abandoned development around six months previous after enduring six months of running away from various spies, assassins and conspiracy theorists. A year ago he had been charged with keeping a secret that Mike Novick had discovered, and so far he had managed to do that. He moved into the room that served the purpose of bedroom and living room and sat down on the moth-eaten mattress that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and body odor. As he began to remove his shoes, he noticed the only piece of technology he owned glowing in the corner. He was sure he had turned off his laptop before he had left that day, but he could have been wrong; it wouldn't have been the first time his mind had switched off.

He stood uneasily and moved over to the laptop, flipping up the screen to find the welcoming blankness of his desktop. There was one program open; one which had been used many times over the past twelve months.

He maximized the window of the complex audio player and reluctantly pressed play; for every time he listened to these audio files, he felt physically sick.

For the first few seconds there was silence, but then there were noises as the call began. Roger had listened to this file hundreds of times, and could almost recite the conversation that had taken place over protected phone lines twelve months before between Stephen Byrne and Mikhail Luzhny.

"…all you have to do is make sure these attacks go as planned Mikhail; that is all," the dry voice of Stephen Byrne said.

"I will do my job Sir; Kevin is proving a problem, but nothing I can't handle."

"Any problems need to be dealt with Mikhail. You know that."

"As soon as the Union Station attack is underway we will take steps to rid us of Mr. Cassel."

"Good. Has Mr. Warner been useful?"

"Of course; none of this would have been possible without his funding and…unique intelligence contacts."

"Unfortunately you will be unable to contact him again today; he had to leave the country."

"CTU getting too close?"

"Yes. But they don't suspect anything."

"Are you sure Stephen? I wouldn't want us to be endangered by something so small."

The line bristled with the tension between the two men.

"Just make sure you keep your side of the bargain and I'll keep mine. I have to go."

Roger listened on as the various clicks and beeps signaled the end of the transmission, but then he heard a different sound; a rustling coming from close-by. Silently he flipped the laptop lid shut, and pulled the plug. Suddenly the room was pitch black, the only audible sound being Roger's heavy panicked breathing. He pushed himself up against the wall behind the door and grabbed one of the rough bricks that were scattered around the room; waiting for the threat if it came. He heard footsteps moving through the sheeting and into the building, slowly coming closer and closer. He gasped and held his breath as the darkened figure moved slowly into the room, carefully looking around. He would have turned and spotted Roger if not for the laptop which was infinitely more exciting. But his lack of care cost him dear as Roger lunged at the figure, striking him with the blunt brick he held tightly in his hand. The figured stumbled forward in shock, his hands going to his head instinctively to block any more blows. Roger struck him again on the side of the head, knocking him to the floor, and for a second he thought he had killed him. But the figure still breathed, although in a very shallow troubled way, like a boxer on the edge of defeat. Roger towered over the prone figure like a man possessed, the brick clutched in his white knuckle.

"Who are you?" he growled.

At first he didn't answer, preferring to try and get to his feet which drew another blow from Roger to the right knee. The figure gasped in pain, but that noise was muffled by the large crack of the kneecap splintering.

"I said who are you!" his voice raising.

"It doesn't matter…who I am…there will be…more..."  
"Who do you work for?"

There was silence again as the figure turned his face away dismissively, drawing Roger's anger again. He thrust the brick down into the man's groin area, killing any chance of escape.

"WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?" he yelled at the top of his voice, almost shaking the room.

"…President Byrne…" the figure conceded, realizing that he wasn't going to get out of this situation.

Roger stared down into the dark recess of this man's face, unable to make out any features. He knew that recognition was pointless though, this man would have no traceable prints or identifiers; he was a ghost, hired to turn his target into the same. The anger that had been building over the last twelve months exploded out of Roger with red-hot precision. He began to pummel the darkened face of the figure again and again until his victims fingers trembled with the effects of death. Blood covered his clothes and hands as he stood up, dropping the bloody brick to the floor as the impact of what he had done hit him. _But I had to…_ Roger thought to himself, _It was kill or be killed. _ He stepped backwards, unable to take his eyes off the corpse in front of him. He grabbed his laptop and the grubby satchel that held every possession he had. And within about ten seconds, he was gone from his home; determined never to return.

**1:53am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Cell Block H, High Security Prison**

Jack shuffled dejectedly back to his cell, all the time watched by the numerous guards who lined every inch of this block. This circle of hell was reserved for the most notorious and dangerous criminals ever caught; and right now Jack was being counted as one of them. Although he had only supposedly killed one man, the reputation of that man preceded him. He was surrounded by men who had raped young girls; men who had killed countless times, and also the sort of psychos who made front page news if they so much as left their homes. Although Jack could not stand these people and what they had done, he had been on enough undercover jobs to know that empathy was the best course of action. He said the right things at the right time, but otherwise kept himself to himself. There were enough people that wanted him dead in this prison alone that made him value what was left of his twisted pathetic life. Only one person had shown him kindness since he had been thrown in there twelve months ago; his cell-mate, who rapidly came into view as he turned the corner to his home block. The other prisoners began to whisper amongst themselves as Jack shuffled onward, eyes glued to the ground so as not to make a wrong glance.

"Murdered any more Presidents yet Jack?" one man cried from the back of the group. An ironic cheer grew larger, just as one voice spoke against it.

"Shut up you guys."

The voice boomed from a figure that certainly matched the tone of voice. Benjamin Roberts was pushing seven feet tall; with thick black hair that covered his whole head. He sat with his arms crossed, showing off his broad shoulders and rippling muscles. He was the sort of person that nobody messed with, no matter what their record. He was referred to as Snake on H block, partly because of his usually quiet, shy nature, but mostly because of his tendency to strike without fail at any time. The group was quiet as Jack approached, followed by guards who eyes everyone nervously, making sure no-one made an advance on him while they were watching.

"Back to your cells dirt bags; you've had your fun."

Murmurs of discontent and a few expletives were heard as the prisoners obeyed and moved to their cells grumpily. Snake followed Jack as he was pushed into the cell, and eyeballed the guards as he passed. The bars slid shut with a large crash after a few seconds, and the prisoners lived up to their name. They knew they would not be let out until the morning, and settled down out of habit.

Snake glanced over at Jack who had adopted the fetal position on his dirty bed, just like he did every night. He hated to see him like this, but he knew he was a troubled soul.

"How was your date with hot lips?" he smiled, trying to raise the tone.

"Stop it Snake," Jack whispered unmoving.

"Come on Jack, don't shut me out. Trust me; I've done this for longer than you, and it doesn't do you any good."

Jack turned around a little so he was lying on his back, "I just don't want to talk about it."

"So when are you going to talk Jack? Because you don't have much longer."

Jack began to turn back around, not ready for this.

"Ok, Ok, I'm sorry Jack. I just don't want it to end like this."

"Well I'm afraid there isn't much choice. It's already over."

"It's not over Jack; you didn't do this."

"Well why don't I just make you the judge, then I'll be just dandy…" he sneered.

Snake's eyes flared, but he had gotten used to Jack's antisocial attitude.

"So what did she want to see you for? To work on the case?"

Jack thought about fobbing him off again, but he was too tired, "Yeah, just to try and find anything that could help."

"And did she?"

"I don't know. She thinks she has."

"What do you mean?"

"You remember a few weeks ago that I had that visitor?"

"The dead guy?" Snake asked matter-of-factly, in a way that no-one but a hardened criminal could in the circumstances.

"Yeah. I didn't tell her about it until today, and now she thinks she can somehow find him and get the missing evidence."

"Well that's good isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. She's getting in over her head, and she doesn't know it yet."

"You're worried she won't find him in time?"

"No Snake," he murmured with serious misgivings, "I'm scared that she will."

**1:58am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Imperial Highway**

Angela powered down the highway in her high-powered sports car, only slowing temporarily to over-take the sporadic vehicles in her way. She knew that finding this Roger Frederick that Jack had told her about wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to find him. And she certainly didn't share Jack's misgivings about going after him. As far as she was concerned it was go in, talk to him and leave with the evidence. Then the man she had deep feelings for would go free. She slowed her car a little as she reached for her cell-phone, pressing 1 on her speed-dial. The phone rang out three times before it was answered by a small Hispanic woman.

"Bennet residence?"

"Mischa? It's Angela," she said in a calm voice.

"Mrs. Bennet! Is something wrong that you are calling?"

Angela had to smile at Mischa's improving English. When she had hired the maid, she could hardly speak a word of English. It was her late husbands' choice to take the chance, but she was glad she had. She was great with her daughter and had spent the last eight years making up for the many, many days that Angela couldn't be there. And for that she was eternally grateful.

"No Mischa, it's OK. I was just phoning to let you know that I won't be coming home just yet. I have some more things to take care of."  
"That is alright Mrs. Bennet, me and Kelly having lots of fun here."

Angela smiled, "Can I talk to her for a second Mischa?"

"Of course Mrs. Bennet, I put her on."

"Thank you Mischa," she said politely as she waited for her daughter to come on the phone. She imagined the lively ten year old bouncing towards the phone in her usual bubbly nature, and wished that she could be there.

"Hey mommy!" Kelly exclaimed in her excited child-like voice.

"Hey munchkin," she smiled, "Why are you not in bed? It's almost 2 in the morning!"

"Mom...I'm almost eleven…"

"And you still need to sleep!"

"But I want to see you Mommy…when are you going to get back?"

"Well if you go right upstairs and get some sleep then I will be sitting right beside you when you wake up."

"Do you promise Mommy?"

"I promise Munchkin."

"Are you with Jack Mommy?"

Angela paused for a second and closed her eyes. Her daughter had always had an inquisitive mind which gave Angela no opportunity for her to lie about where she always disappeared to most days. A few months ago she had been forced to tell Kelly who Jack was, but she had shielded her from a lot of the truth.

"Not right now sweetheart, but I have to do something for him."

"Can I meet Jack one day Mommy?"

This was the question that Kelly always asked, but it was always hard to answer.

"One day sweetheart, hopefully one day," she murmured, then swiftly changing the subject, "But right now you need to go to bed!"

"Alright, I'll go to bed when I beat Mischa at this game!"  
"You go easy on her now! She hasn't had as much practice as you!"

"I love you Mommy," Kelly sang in her happy voice, as if there wasn't a care in the world.

"I love you too sweetheart."

Angela snapped the phone shut and threw it to the car seat beside her, placing a hand on her forehead. She missed her daughter, and sort of wished that she hadn't called her. She stared through the windscreen to the freeway ahead and tried to concentrate as much as possible on the job at hand. She was concentrating so much that she didn't notice the jet black van approaching from the lane to her left. Before she could react, the van rammed her bumper and sent her veering from the freeway and down the embankment. Even before the vehicle had come to a stop, the van was speeding away down the freeway, leaving Angela's bent and buckled sports car at the bottom of the tall embankment, smoke rising slowly and seductively from underneath the bonnet.

01:59:57

01:59:58

01:59:59

02:00:00

**Main Cast (in order of appearance)**

Ivan Gresko – Sean Bean

Kevin Cassel – Paul Bettany

Vladimir Dminsky – Ryan Gosling

George Mason – Xander Berkeley

Ryan Chapelle – Paul Schulze

Tony Almeida – Carlos Bernard

Michelle Dessler-Almeida – Reiko Aylseworth

Bill Buchanan – James Morrison

President Stephen Byrne – Tom Wilkinson

Milo Pressman – Eric Balfour

Joshua Morrison – Mark Ruffalo

Melanie Bradshaw – Alexis Bledel

Chris Walker – TBA

Janet Walker - TBA

Sarah Walker - TBA

Danny Dessler – **Justin Louis**

Jack Bauer – Kiefer Sutherland

Angela Bennett – Jorja Fox

Roger Frederick - TBA

Benjamin 'Snake' Roberts - TBA


	4. Episode 203 2:00am to 3:00am

24: Ground Zero

Episode 2.03: "Day 2: 2:00am to 3:00am"

By

Chris Wright

Based on the television series 24

And

24: End of an Era

24: Ground Zero – Day 2: 2:00am - 3:00am 

"**The following takes place between 2:00am and 3:00am, on Friday 28th March, 2008…"**

**2:00am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Imperial Highway, Los Angeles**

Angela awoke to the faint smell of burning with her head resting against the steering wheel of her wrecked Lexus sports-car. There was a throbbing pain in her head, and as she touched it she felt a wet patch of blood seeping through her brown hair. She winced at the touch and then tried to prise open the door. She kicked at it, and eventually it swung open awkwardly at a strange angle. She half stepped, half fell out of the vehicle and staggered clear of the now visibly burning car. She turned around and saw the front of the car virtually wrapped around a tall tree; the bonnet and front bumper virtually unrecognizable. She rubbed her head and winced as she thought of what had happened. It had all gone so quickly, but from what she could remember, she had been forced off the road by an unmarked van; something that smacked of a conspiracy. Suddenly the warnings that Jack had yelled her way as she was leaving rang true, and she shivered a little as she wondered what she had got herself into. She looked up the steep embankment and took a deep breath before beginning to climb towards the freeway.

The climb was long and hard, and she did it mostly on her knees, digging her hands into the dirt for grip. She had long since discarded her expensive high heels, and was now wishing that she had worn more casual clothes to visit Jack. She kept on climbing through the darkness, now invisible from the crash site just in time to miss the unmarked van as it approached. It slowed to a stop and opened its doors as three armed men hopped out. They moved in a professional fashion, covering each other with their weapons raised. They moved as if they were tracking a dangerous criminal, not a high-flying lawyer. As they approached the vehicle, they realized that their target had disappeared. One of the men raised an arm to stop his colleagues as he moved forward to check the vehicle out.

Once satisfied, he waved the man back to the van as he pulled out his cell-phone, dialing a familiar number in his mind.

"Yes?" the deep Texan voice of Vince Abbott said.

"It's Murphy. She's not here," the commando said with trepidation.

"What do you mean 'she's not here'?"

"We took the car off the road just like you asked and isolated it. But we're at the wreckage and she's not in it."

"Find her Murphy. We're in a lot of trouble if you don't."

"We will Sir."

"You better. And don't contact me until she's in your custody."  
Abbott ended the call and threw the phone across the room in frustration. He lay back in his comfortable chair and wheezed a little in the late night heat. It was just after 4am in Houston, but he had no time for sleep. He had been given a small job to do, and he didn't want to face the embarrassment of failing. But he had to make one more call before acting any further, and that was to the man who had given him the job.

"Chief of Staff Morrison speaking," Joshua spoke proudly, loving the way his title sounded.

"It's Abbot," he said in his thick accent, "I have some news from my men."

"And that is?" Josh said impatiently, regretting giving this bone idle man the job to do.

"They took Ms. Bennett's car off the road but now they can't find her."

"What do you mean they can't find her?"

"The car was empty when they got there; they're looking for her right now."  
"They lost her!" Joshua exclaimed, "How could you let that happen!"

"They're going to find her. It's just a matter of time."

"Let me make this perfectly clear Mr. Abbott. If your men do not find Ms. Bennett within the hour then the contract we made is cancelled."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Abbott asked with a small tremble in his voice.

"Work it out Vince." Joshua sneered, ending the call.

Abbott was left a little frightened by the call, wondering what Joshua had meant. He brushed his thick mane of silver hair back and leaned back a little more in his chair, giving him the appearance of a stranded turtle that wouldn't be able to get back up. He sighed and took another long, slow sip of his drink.

Unaware of what was happening below her; Angela reached the top of the embankment and stumbled to her feet. She was almost completely covered from head to toe in earth and mud and her hands were almost black with dirt; but she ignored these and began trying to flag down a vehicle. The encounter with the van had shaken her, and she was frightened of it coming back and finishing the job. The way it had taken her our left no mistake of their intentions; she wasn't supposed to survive a crash like that. She waved frantically as vehicle after vehicle drove past, not wanting to stop and pick up a person with such a poor physical appearance. She looked down at her clothes and made a small effort to brush some of the debris off her suit before resuming her frantic thumbing. Suddenly an SUV pulled slowly over to the hard shoulder and came to a stop beside her. Angela smiled and bent down to the window.

"Thank you so much! I was in a car accident."

"It's alright; I wasn't going anywhere anyway," the woman driving the car said flatly. Angela recoiled a little at the woman's tone of voice, but only for a second. She was just glad to have someone willing to help. "So where are you going?" the woman asked.

"I need to go to my office Downtown."

"And where's that?"

"Paseo de La Plaza, just across from Union Station."

"I know it. Hop in."

Angela did as she was told, smiling as she got in. She gave out a huge sigh of relief and glanced out of the window as she saw the spot where her car had left the road. The woman put the car into gear and slowly pulled out.

**2:08am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Counter Terrorist Unit, Financial District**

Chris Walker strolled into CTU through the final checkpoint and nodded at the various analysts who greeted him. He spotted Bill Buchanan bent over at Milo's station with Milo and moved towards them. Both men turned as he reached them with troubled looks on their faces.

"Well thanks for the lovely welcome guys," Chris frowned.

"Thanks for coming in at such short notice Chris," Bill said, still looking troubled.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

Bill sighed and began, "Just over an hour ago the Hollywood Reservoir was bombed, and parts of Los Angeles were flooded. We have reason to believe that this is only the beginning."  
Now Chris was jolted from his sleepy state-of-mind, suddenly awake and grim-faced, "What makes you think that?"

"We received a phone call two minutes before the attack; he didn't say in as many words, but he made it pretty clear that we were talking about a 24 hour timeframe."

"Any ideas who is responsible?"

"None. The voice on the end of the line was scrambled and automated; we tried a trace but it was a dead end."

"Great. So we have no leads whatsoever?"

"Not at the moment," Bill murmured, suddenly wondering why he brought in his head of Field Ops.

"Good. I'll be in my office playing Tetris," Chris remarked sarcastically.

"We have to have our best people in Chris; we don't know when they're going to strike again."

"We don't know IF they're going to strike again Bill!" Chris said, raising his voice a little and drawing glances from his co-workers.

"Well if they do I want to be ready; maybe show that this department shouldn't be dissolved."

Chris paused, knowing how much Bill cared for CTU, even after the short amount of time he had spent there, "Alright. You give me something to do and I'll do it. Who else is coming in?"

"Corrigan and Jordyn are on their way."

That made Chris a little happier. His two best field agents were known even before they came to CTU LA. They had followed separate paths in various Government and security employment before being recruited into CTU New York following the World Trade Centre attacks. They both shared a zeal for the greater good and believed that they were doing something that made a real difference in the world. They were damn good field agents, and just the people Chris wanted undertaking CTU's operations.

"That's good. Anyone else?"

"Edgar Stiles should be here any minute."

"Edgar Stiles? I thought he resigned?"

"Well he did, but I gave him his job back."

"Any reason why?"

"Well I think he only resigned because Chloe got fired; but they haven't been doing too well lately. I was happy to give him his job back; we need our best people. And Edgar is the best."

"No, Chloe is the best. But Edgar'll do."

Bill flashed a look of disdain at Chris before waving him away.

"When everyone gets here I'll brief you fully."

"I'll be in my office then," Chris said before turning tail and moving towards Field Ops. He sighed as he went, wishing that he could still be at home, even if he was arguing with his daughter. He couldn't help but worry about what Sarah was doing when she was out to the small hours most nights. He had heard stories of what had happened to Jack Bauer's daughter all those years ago, and he certainly didn't want that happening to him. He got into his office and closed the door behind him, enjoying the welcoming silence of the shielded office. He always liked being in on his own before the cavalry arrived; the Head of Field Ops office was situated right at the back of the CTU floor meaning very few interruptions. He moved over to his expensive leather office chair and sat down, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to relax. But when he opened his eyes, his computer stared right back at him.

_Tetris…_ he thought to himself, and sat forward.

**2:14am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Runway 1**

The pilot and co-pilot of the large Airbus 380 made final preparations for their take-off as the hulking beast of a machine sat on the runway; awaiting the beginning of its first major flight. Clarence Oveur was proud to be the pilot for this momentous occasion, and he intended to make the most of the opportunity that had been handed to him. He pressed a button on the futuristic looking console and put him through to the four-hundred passengers who had managed to get tickets for the flight.

"Good morning Ladies and Gentleman. I am Captain Oveur, and welcome to United American flight MU-SE45 to London. I am pleased to announce that this will be the first fully commercial flight of the Airbus A380, and we hope that you will enjoy this maiden flight in the comfort that has been afforded to you. Our flight time is expected to be around ten hours thirty minutes, so we should arrive by 10am local time. We will give you more announcements when we are in the air, but right now just sit back, and enjoy your flight."

The pilot clicked off the intercom and turned around to smile at his co-pilot.

"Congratulations Captain, you just made the first broadcast from A380. You just made history," the co-pilot smiled.

"Thank you Roger," Oveur smiled, enjoying the moment.

"Here's hoping for an uneventful flight; these things fly themselves anyway!" he laughed.

"Just jinx it why don't you!" he laughed back, glad the intercom wasn't on. He turned and picked up the radio, "We are clear for take off."

"Roger that, you are clear for take off on Runway 1."

Oveur placed the radio back in its housing and got ready. The next few minutes would be the most trying.

Further back on the lower deck, three men sitting together shifted uneasily in their comfortable seats. A man sitting five rows in front and to the right of them turned slowly and nodded to one. He returned the nod and then stared straight ahead along with the rest of the men. None of the other passengers had any clue of the hell that would strike them as soon as the journey was underway.

**2:19am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Mount Wilson Observatory, San Gabriel Mountains**

Ivan was talking on his cell-phone on one side of the observatory room while Cassel worked with some of his men on the monitors across the room. He turned around and watched Ivan speaking animatedly, wondering what was making him like that. Ivan turned and locked eyes with Cassel, and suddenly was grim-faced. The tension between the two men underlined the mistrust that both had for each other. Ivan finished his call, and snapped the phone shut, walking over to Cassel.

"What was that about?" Cassel asked.

"Let's just say I've arranged a little distraction at LAX to allow us easier access."

Cassel frowned, "What did you do?"

Ivan smiled before continuing, showing his confidence, "I have ten men on an Airbus A380 ready to take over the plane."

"You must be joking," Cassel sneered, not believing what his supposed colleague was saying.

"No joke. As soon as it takes off, my men will take it over until we're ready for them to land back in LAX. The subsequent chaos will allow us to get into the airport and take what we need."

Cassel threw a hand to his head as if he was trying to stop it from falling off in shock, "And you said my small light show at the reservoir was excessive…"

"This isn't excessive Kevin, this is necessary."

"Who says it's necessary?"

"I do."

"Wow, great partnership we have here…"

"Don't test me Kevin. This is a partnership, but we can't confer on everything."

"Ivan; I know you don't really trust me, but we have to get beyond this. We may not like each other much, but we have a common goal that we have to work towards together. And that starts by telling me what the hell is going on."

Ivan, who had looked to the ground throughout the whole conversation, suddenly looked up and smiled, "I understand comrade; America shall only be brought to its knees if we work together."

He extended a hand to Cassel, which he gladly took, shaking it heartily.

"So is there anything else I should know?" Ivan asked, sensing that Cassel also had a few secrets.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Ivan asked, trying to search Cassel's mind for what he was hiding.

"Yes. We'll see how the hijacking goes and then we'll plan our next attack."  
Ivan didn't believe his partner, but he had to trust him if they were to get through this. He turned away and pulled his cell-phone out again as Cassel returned to the monitor banks.

**2:24am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Terminal 1**

Roger Frederick stepped out of the taxi and tossed the fare through the driver's window. He had become so paranoid of being discovered by the Government that he even thought the cab driver was suspicious. He marched through the sliding doors to the terminal, his tattered rucksack slung over his shoulder. His hands were still shaking from the attack at his makeshift home; and now all he wanted to do was at least get out of Los Angeles. The plan he had formulated on the way to the airport was ambitious, but at that point he was past caring about the safe way out. He planned to travel to Washington DC – the center of American politics – and reveal the truth to the world; the truth that Stephen Byrne killed David Palmer.

The airport check-in area was very busy despite the early hours with many people traveling around America for the weekend. Roger smiled at the situation; he would be able to disappear easily if need be. He moved towards the ticket office for United American and waited in the three person queue. For the first time in a long time, Roger felt safe and like nothing could touch him.

**2:26am Pacific Daylight Time**

**East Cypress Avenue, Burbank**

The scene was tranquil in the small living room of Tony and Michelle's small home, but the minds of its occupants were chaotic. Michelle sat on the main computer, networking with at least three of the laptops stationed around her, piggybacking on their processing power while Danny watched behind her, not doing much else. Tony, George and Ryan sat around two other computers which were sifting the massive expanse of the internet for any reference to Roger Frederick or any aliases he had been going under for the past twelve months. There was silence in the room, but for the clicking and tapping of the mice and keyboards of the many computers which ate from the groaning meter. Tony was the first to break the silence.

"This search is hopeless; we're never going to find anything recent."

"We're finding some things," George said, his face buried in another laptop.

"Yeah, but not what we're looking for. These are all articles on the man behind the President's Chief of Staff; not the man who could bring down the Government."

"Well maybe that's one and the same…" Ryan mused, as he sat back in a chair.

Although Ryan hadn't meant anything by the words, they struck a chord with Tony.

"Maybe we're looking at the wrong person…"

"How do you mean?" Ryan asked, also getting the attention of the rest of the group.

"Well do you all remember who we all thought was the mole in the Government?"

"Mike Novick…" Ryan breathed, suddenly cottoning on to Tony's train of thought.

"Exactly. We were made to think that for a reason. On the surface, it would just be considered as a set-up to divert suspicion…but somebody wanted Mike out of the way for a reason."

"And Jack duly obliged…" George mumbled, looking to the floor.

"But before he died, he told Jack that there was something huge. Mike knew who the mole was."

"So why didn't he go public?" Michelle spoke up, seemingly joining the endless chorus of voices against Tony's idea.

"He could have thought it was too dangerous. Whoever it was managed to kill the President and placed moles inside several branches of the Government. Taking him or her down wouldn't have been easy."

There were no shouts of dissent from his colleagues, so Tony continued.

"When he was framed, he knew that he didn't have much time. If he went out at that point with very little evidence, then he would look like the one who was trying to frame someone. His only hope was to pass the evidence on…"

"To Roger Frederick…" Ryan said, suddenly seeing where Tony was going.

"Exactly. Mike knew he was going to die."

"So you think he should concentrate on Mike rather than Roger?" Michelle asked in annoyance, having already started a trace on a credit card they suspected belonged to a Roger Frederick.

"Only on searches for information. You and Danny keep looking for threads on where Roger is. That's still our best shot."

As if by magic, Michelle's computer bleeped in success as a large map of the West Coast of America suddenly popped up.

"It's the credit card trace! Someone just used it!" Michelle yelped in excitement.

Tony jumped to his feet, "Where?"  
"I'm not sure; it'll take time to zone in."

"As soon as we have a general area I'll get after it."

"I'll go with you," George piped up, already on his feet.

"Me too," Ryan said with little feeling, seeming like he only said it to match George.

"You stay here and help Michelle, Ryan." Tony said without turning around.

Ryan slumped back to his chair, sulking. Michelle watched as the map closed in.

"South-western LA!"

Tony watched the map, but as it zoomed in one level closer on the trace, it became clear where the card had been used.

"He's in LAX…"

Tony and George rushed towards the front door, knowing that they may not have much time to find the man they were looking for.

**2:30am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Runway 1**

Captain Oveur taxied the Airbus to the end of the runway and lined it up for take-off. This was the part that he lived for; the feel of being pushed back into his seat by the sheer power of the Rolls-Royce engines and the feel of his stomach turning over and over. He had been on the maiden flight of the first jumbo jet; and throughout that experience and his childhood, he dreamed of becoming a pilot. And now here he was, captain of the most important commercial flight in decades. His pride radiated throughout the cabin.

"Any last words?" he smiled at his co-pilot.

"Just to get this damn bird in the air Clarence!"

Clarence nodded and threw down the thrust lever; sending the plane hurtling down the runway. He waited and waited, and then lifted the hulking beast off the runway with ease. It was a textbook take-off, and as far as Clarence was concerned the hardest part was over.

The small band of men sitting towards the rear of the plane stared straight ahead as the plane leveled off at its cruising height. The stewardesses were starting to leave their seats, and suddenly the seatbelt light was extinguished. They waited for around ten seconds, and then the man in the outermost seat stood up and marched towards the front of the plane. He carried a small hold all in his right hand that brushed against every passenger on the way up.

"The toilet already Sir? You should have gone in the terminal!" one of the stewardesses joked with a fake smile.

The man smiled absent mindedly and looked to the floor, "You know, after all that increased security at check-in, I've been wondering ever since I boarded whether I should be allowed this on the plane…"

"Allowed what Sir?" the stewardess asked, her smile suddenly turning around. She watched the man as he rummaged around in the hold all; but she couldn't react in time before the man pulled a small pistol and spun her around, grabbing her around the throat in a vice like grip for all passengers to see. He flicked a switchblade from its housing and held it against the young firm flesh of her throat. The passengers began to panic, but they soon found weapons pointed at their own heads from the growing numbers of passengers joining the ranks of the hijackers. Chaos ensued as passengers began screaming and shouting before being shouted down by the leader of the hijackers.

"QUIET!" he yelled, still pressing his switchblade against the innocent woman's throat while he pointed his weapon in the general direction of the trouble in front of him. "Whether you do as we say or not, we will achieve our goals. You just need to decide whether you want to live through this or not."

He could feel the woman he was holding breathing heavily, close to hyperventilating. He reached down and whispered in her ear.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I like you; just don't do anything stupid OK?"

The stewardess nodded, at least it seemed that way through her trembling.

"What's your name anyway?"

"K-K-Kylie…" she stammered through her fright.

"Good morning Kylie; you can call me Hawks, I need you to do something for me."

"You're going to hijack this plane aren't you?" she said with surprising strength.

"Well I'd see it as us being in charge for a little; but call it what you like. I need you to get me into the cockpit."

"That's impossible. No-one can get into a cockpit these days."

"You're lying Kylie. It isn't advisable to lie to me."

"I'm not lying…" Kylie spoke in a trembling voice.

Hawks stared for a second at his terrified quarry before motioning to one of his comrades. Without hesitation, the other men fired point blank at one of the passenger's head. The well-dressed businessman fell to the ground; killed instantly by the bullet to the brain. Screams erupted again before Hawks yelled for quiet once again.

"Now Kylie, I want you to tell me the truth. Can you get me into the cockpit or do I have to kill another passenger?"

"I'll…get you in…" Kylie conceded.

"Good. That's the right answer. Let's go."

Hawks nodded at his men to keep guard on the remaining passengers and crew as he pushed his hostage towards the cockpit. He hated having to threaten women; but sometimes it was the only way to get the job done. This was one of these times. The two reached the cockpit door and Hawks motioned for her to get him in. He loosened his grip and let her go, retracting his switchblade and putting it back in his pocket.

"One wrong move and I shoot you in the back sweetheart. Believe that."

She turned around, shivering at Hawks words. Then, after composing herself, she pressed the intercom to the cockpit. She had no idea what she would say to get them to open the door; in fact she simply felt like a traitor at being the one to aid a terrorist attack. But she had no choice; it was do this and have a chance of stopping it or die.

"Eh…Captain?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Kylie Edwards; chief Stewardess. I've got a little boy here who wants to see the cockpit…do you want to let him in?"

She shot a glance back at Hawks who was smiling an eerie smile upon seeing her ingenuity. He heard movement and suddenly the sound of an electronic lock releasing. He was seconds from being in the cockpit of the most advanced commercial aircraft in the world, but then Kylie risked everything.

"IT'S A TRAP!" she yelled at the slowly opening door. But it was too late for her; Hawks pistol whipped her and knocked her unconscious as he lunged forward, taking her with him into the cockpit.

"Close the door now, and don't touch anything else." Hawks said flatly, pointing his gun at the pilot. He put his hands up, but out of the corner of his eye he saw movement from the co-pilot. "You as well deputy dog; don't think for one second that I won't shoot you." The co-pilot stopped moving and pulled his hands back to the arm-rests of the chair. He picked up Kylie using one hand while still pointing his weapon at the two men. It swung precariously as his attention was drawn by getting the unconscious woman seated and strapped in; so much so that Murdoch lunged forward, grabbing the barrel and trying to force it out of harms way. But, unfortunately for him, he wasn't an ex-marine like Hawks was, and was nowhere near as strong. Hawks forced the pistol into the Murdoch's chest and emptied the three remaining bullets in the clip into him.

Murdoch's face twisted into an expression of shock and pain before setting into the effects of death. Blood spread from the wound in his chest onto the leather cock-pit chairs as Clarence Oveur stood staring in complete shock.

"I guess you'll want another co-pilot then Captain Oveur," Hawks sneered.

"What do you want?"

"Well at the moment we're not quite sure. There are ten of us out there and we haven't quite decided yet. Although we will need to make a broadcast."

"What kind of broadcast?"

"One that every news network on the west coast will latch onto like the limpets that they truly are. One that tells them that if we are threatened in any way by the Air Force and their jets then we will crash this plane into LAX."

"Well that's original; doubt it will happen though…"

"Oh and why the doubts?"

"I will never fly this plane into LAX."

"Then we'll find someone else who will. Did I forget to tell you that we have four pilots willing to die for our cause?"

Clarence stared at Hawks in complete disbelief over this man and his detailed plan. He thought of himself as a decent judge of character; and he could tell that he meant what he said.

"Don't worry captain; if you just keep circling LAX airspace and you or your Air Force doesn't do anything stupid then in another hour or so we'll land on Runway 2 with no further fatalities. Do we have an understanding?"

"How do I know you won't just kill me as soon as you've got what you want?"

"What I want is for you to fly this plane and not make a nuisance of yourself; can you do that?"

"Yes." Clarence growled with contempt.

"Good. Keep circling; I will know if you change your course, so don't even attempt to play me or contact the authorities until the time is right."

Clarence didn't reply and simply stared ahead out the window into the deep black of the cloudy skies.

**2:35am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Presidential Retreat, Los Angeles**

Stephen Byrne sat across the table from his wife and stared at her while she read through the points to consider for the G8 summit. He had stopped listening a long time ago however, and was overcome by her continuing beauty. He had often lain awake at night wondering why she had married him; it was a question that he himself could not fathom an answer to. But he realized that luck had been on his side for a long time; ever since he had become involved in the plot to re-take the Government. Maybe that luck was the reason that Laura Richmond decided to become Laura Byrne all those years ago.

"You've not listened to a word I've said have you?" Laura smiled.

"I'm sorry darling," he murmured in a quiet voice.

"What's wrong? You've seemed so pre-occupied this morning."

"You do love me don't you?" Stephen asked in a faltering voice, looking into his wife's eyes.

"Of course I do silly!" Laura smiled, "Why do you say that?"

"I just can't believe I could be so lucky."

"What's so lucky? I'm a pain in the ass!"

"You're beautiful; you're smart; and you make me feel like I am something."

"That's very sweet Stephen," Laura said, a smile spreading far across her face. She stood up and moved around to his side of the table and draped herself around her husband's shoulders, "I'm not going anywhere darling, don't worry."

"I know sweetheart," he said, squeezing her arms with his, "I know."

He couldn't see it, but her eyes showed a certain sadness. There was something behind them that was worrying her; but she couldn't show that in front of her husband. She had a secret, but she was determined to end that feeling today.

Suddenly she felt a vibration against the skin on her right arm and Stephen rushed to his feet, almost knocking his wife away. He pulled the cell-phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID before frowning.

"It's the Prime Minister. I need to take this."

Laura nodded and managed a small smile before turning away and watching her husband leave the room. She knew how important this summit would prove to be, so she didn't mind him being preoccupied over that. Suddenly her own phone began to ring; called by a number she had seen so many times lately. She looked around her and then moved towards a door at the opposite side of the room; she would need privacy for this call.

"Hey Martin," Laura cooed seductively, "It's a little late for you to be calling."  
"It's not late my dear, it is early. And I needed to speak with you."

Martin's voice was deep and carried a slight German accent.

"Why do you need to speak with me?"

"Actually, I lied. I don't need to speak with you…"

"I…don't understand."

"I need to see you more than that."

Laura laughed. He had always managed to make her laugh since she had met him at one of the President's functions. He was enigmatic; and Laura still didn't really know who he was or what he did. But she didn't care; being with him made her feel young again.

"So where should I meet you?" she giggled.

"You are at the Presidential retreat aren't you?"

"Yes I am."

"Well I am at a farmhouse around ten miles down the only road out of the retreat."

"Good. Not too far away…"

"Meet me in an hour."

"Why so long?"

Martin laughed dryly, "I am a gentleman above all, my dear; I intend to give you all the time to sneak out of that prison."

"Then I'll see you in an hour," Laura smiled, twirling her stray curls with one finger.

"Yes you will."

Martin hung up, leaving Laura hanging, almost drooling, on the end of the phone. She quickly replaced the phone though, scared at who might find her like this. She would have to think up a very good excuse to get out of the retreat at this time in the morning.

**2:39am Pacific Daylight Time**

**High Security Prison, Nevada**

Officer Leyland put down the phone to his office and allowed himself a small guilty smile. He had just been contacted by his man in Texas who had informed him that Angela Bennet had been killed in a car crash just off the Imperial Highway. It was regrettable that things had to happen like this, but he had played his part. He was told that Ms. Bennet was going to blow the lid off something big, and she had to be stopped. He didn't need any incentive though; he had been a die-hard David Palmer supporter before he was so brutally murdered by Jack Bauer. He had wanted to watch that man's downfall ever since he had been transferred to his block; and now was the time. He stood up from his desk and moved to the door, almost with a spring in his step.

"Well if I got out right now, I'd go straight to a hooker and bang the living shit out of her," Snake leered in his inimitable voice. He had a heart of gold, but sometimes he could say things with such clarity. Jack had to admire him, even though the whole state of mind had started as an illusion. He had come into the cell-block with no friends and many enemies, but Snake had taken him under his wing and protected him from the other cons who just wanted to kill him. It was possibly because of Snake's staunch Republican support, but it was more because he found Jack such an interesting person. Despite not knowing his most intimate secret, he had still listened while Jack told him all about CTU, his late wife, Nina Myers, Kim and everybody who had crossed his path during his eventful life. Snake not only liked this man; he admired him.

"I don't know what I'd do if I got out. Probably wouldn't be too long before I was back in here."

"I thought you said you were innocent?"

"That doesn't matter anymore…" Jack murmured, staring into space again.

"I know exactly what you'd do with the time you had Jack."

"What's that?"

"You'd go and be with Angela and her kid."

Jack smiled a little, thinking of the small photo he had beneath his pillow of Angela and her daughter. He was always afraid to take it out in case the thoughts of his own dead daughter surfaced again. Kelly was a beautiful child, with waist length blonde hair and bright, piercing blue eyes. When he thought about her, he could see her turning into Kim when she was older. Although he wouldn't tell anyone, he dreamed of being free of prison, and moving in with Angela so he could start afresh with Kelly and give her the sort of childhood he should have given Kim. That was what he dreamed about every night.

Suddenly the peace was shattered by the cell bars sliding open as Officer Leyland entered, flanked by two wardens. Jack and Leyland stared at each other with burning hate transmitting between them. Snake could feel the tension, and despite being a hardened criminal, he wished he wasn't there.

"Good morning Jack," Leyland said in his professional manner.

"What do you want Leyland?"

"I have some news for you. I think we should speak in private."

"Whatever you have to say you can say right here."

"Very well. There was a car accident and it seems that Ms. Bennet didn't make it."

There was a certain harshness that Leyland used while revealing the information that froze the atmosphere around the whole block. Jack stared into the eyes of the Officer, not wanting to believe what he was saying. He began to rock a little back and forth, suddenly revisiting everything he felt when Teri died.

"I'm sorry Mr. Bauer. I wish there was an easy way to tell you."  
Jack's eyes began to fill with tears, but as he tried to clear them, he caught Warden Smart's eyes, which seemed to be motioning towards Leyland and shaking his head slightly. The motion could have been construed as completely innocent, but there was something in it that stirred his emotions towards complete fury.

"You wanted her dead didn't you Leyland…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You wanted her dead. You've wanted me dead since I got here because you think I killed David Palmer. But I didn't. And suddenly as soon as Angela got close to finding something proving that, somebody ordered her death. You ordered it, didn't you?"

"You're clearly delusional Jack…" Leyland sneered as he turned to leave.

Suddenly the rage burst out of Jack as he lunged forward and grabbed the officer, lifting him and twisting his body in mid-air before slamming him to the ground. Snake was too late to stop that attack, but he was soon grabbing at Jack, trying desperately to get him off. Warden Smart made half-hearted attempts to stop him, but eventually it was Snake who managed to physically drag the still punching and kicking Jack off Leyland. The wounded Officer spat blood from his mouth as he got to his feet, brushing his clothes and glaring at Jack who glared right back with even more intensity.

"Take the bastard to Solitary and don't let him out until his trial sends him to death row!" he yelled as he turned tail and almost ran from the room. The two wardens stood awkwardly at the cell door as Jack got unsteadily to his feet. The adrenaline was making his legs turn to jelly, and he had to move with Snake's help. But as soon as the adrenaline wore off, he was sure that the pain of losing yet another love would be much worse. There were tears in his eyes as he turned to his friend for the last time.

"Well at least I got to attack that asshole before I went…" he managed.

"Take care of yourself Jack. Do whatever they ask; they can't keep you there forever."

Jack bowed his head as Warden Smart and his colleague reluctantly escorted the broken man towards solitary confinement. One of them was radioing somebody, but Jack couldn't hear who it was; there was a constant screaming in his ears of every soul he was responsible for killing.

With the call for medical assistance dispatched, Warden Smart continued to half walk, half drag Jack Bauer towards Solitary confinement; hating that it wasn't Officer Leyland who was being confined.

**2:44am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Terminal 1**

Roger stood towards the front of a fairly large check-in queue and looked towards the ceiling; enjoying the opportunity to have time in his own thoughts and not worry about his own safety. There were two groups of people ahead of him in the queue. The ones directly in front were a very large family – in size, not in numbers – dragging enormous amounts of luggage behind them. They were speaking in loud obnoxious voices, and from the large amount that Roger had overheard, he understood that they were going to Washington in the hope that they would see the President who had guided the country so well. Roger listened with contempt; firstly because it had been well publicized that the President was at his Los Angeles retreat for the G8 summit; and secondly because he knew the truth about the phony President. In his state of newfound knowledge, he suddenly realized that ignorance was bliss.

He shook those thoughts from his head and looked beyond the family to the couple in front of them. The woman was holding her boyfriend tight as they waited in the queue; as if letting go of him would be permanent. He couldn't tell if they were to be parted soon, or whether they were just completely in love. He would probably have been able to tell if he had actually experienced love. Before he went off the grid, all he had done was work for Mike most hours of every day. He hadn't had much of a social life; only people that he worked with. But that ship had sailed, and friends were now some kind of utopian dream in his mind.

The young couple moved away from the desk and he became next up after the family. The wait was beginning to get on his nerves. He had never been used to waiting anywhere for the past twelve months; he was just so used to moving from place to place without ever having any kind of aim. It was a strange feeling.

But suddenly another worker opened the desk next to the active one, and Roger found himself at the front of the queue. He sighed happily and checked-in his baggage; just wondering how easy modern life was when you weren't looking over your shoulder every five seconds.

He finished the process in a matter of minutes, and now he had an hours freedom before his flight boarded; another completely unfamiliar feeling. Just as he moved through into the departure lounge in his blissful peace, Tony and George moved into the terminal, searching around in the vain hope that they would find their target.

**2:48am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Pasadena Freeway, Los Angeles**

Angela watched the world speed by from inside the black SUV in almost complete silence. The radio was turned down to almost inaudible volumes, and the woman who had been so kind to pick her up was now silent, and had hardly said a word since they left the crash site. Angela had tried to instigate conversation, but it was fruitless. This woman was not much of a conversationalist. But when she did speak, she spoke quickly, as though she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

"So why were you on the edge of the highway at this time of the morning?"

"I was forced off the road and my car hit a tree."

"You're lucky to be alive," the woman said in a flat voice that held no surprise over Angela's plight.

"Yeah, I guess I am," she said with a sideways glance, "Thank you for picking me up."

"You're welcome. Needed some company anyway. So why do you need to go to Paseo Plaza?"

"My office is there," Angela said, suddenly remembering that they had gone over all of this when she was picked up.

"Why do you need to go to your office?" the woman continued, unabated.

"I need a computer; I have to look up something about a client."

"Who's your client?" the woman asked, not even blinking at her direct line of questioning.

"I'm not sure that's any of your business."

"I was just asking," the woman pouted.

"Well there's some things I can't reveal to just anyone.

"Sorry for asking then," she sneered as the car became silent again. Angela began to recognize some of the landmarks of Downtown Los Angeles and suddenly realized that she was not too far away from her destination.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, "I don't mean to be obnoxious. It just comes out sometimes."

"It's alright," Angela replied, smiling to try and diffuse the tension. For the first time in the journey, she began to look around the cabin of the car and found a small crushed photo on the dashboard. It quite clearly showed the driver of the car, but the person with her was damaged and scratched. From what she could make out, the seemingly heavy-set man had his arm around the woman who was smiling sweetly.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Angela asked.

"No," the woman snapped, batting the tattered photo away with one hand, "Not any more."

"Oh…sorry…"

"Don't be. He was an idiot."

Angela's poorly chosen words produced silence again, but luckily they had reached the plaza. The woman pulled the car gradually to a stop outside the deserted mix of commercial and office structures.

"So is this it?"

"Yeah."

"You sure you'll be able to get in?"

"I part own the place. I'm sure they'll let me in."

"Alright."

"Well I guess its goodbye. Thank you for this."

"Don't mention it," she said flippantly as she watched Angela leave the vehicle.

Angela turned around one last time, only just remembering the simplest question she should have asked.

"Who did you say you were?" she said into the noise and flurry of exhaust fumes as the car sped away. She was left alone once again in the slight chill of the early Los Angeles morning. She shivered a little and pulled her overcoat further around her shoulders as she walked towards the front door of the Bennett-Armis Law building. She should have been at home in her welcoming king-size bed; although she would have still been at home, she would have been warm and comfortable. She wandered towards the automatic doors and was glad to find the lights still on. She was safe in here.

**2:54am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Skies Above LAX**

Captain Clarence Oveur kept the A380 in its circling path and waited for what would happen next. Things had spiraled out of control very quickly, and he had not been able to stop it. He eyed the radio and wondered what would happen to him if he made a mayday signal. In fact, he wouldn't even need to use the radio. There had been certain functions built into all commercial aircraft to guard against hacking, and a lot of them were various distress signals that could be sent discretely. If he put out a distress signal then the terrorists would be completely unaware…until fighter jets were scrambled to either escort or shoot down the plane; and the hijacker had made it clear that being followed would not be in the country's best interest. Suddenly the cockpit door swung open and Hawks entered, sporting a large smile.

"This plane has one of the most sophisticated auto-pilot systems in operation, does it not?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you'll need to implement it while you come and broadcast to the nation," Hawks said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"And what if I don't?" said Clarence, defiant.

"I'll snap your neck," he replied, unflinching.

"Seems a fair deal," Clarence sighed, knowing he had no choice.

Hawks stepped aside and let the captain past, also giving him the chance to see the well-arranged camera bank which looked like a television studio. There were lights to illuminate the 'stage' and a professional looking video camera to capture whatever it was that was going to happen. Suddenly Clarence found himself pushed forward into the blinding lights, closely followed by Hawks.

"What is this?" he asked, "What are you expecting me to do?"

"Well these cameras are going to record a video which will transmit to every news network who wants to watch. You will tell them this plane's situation, and will re-iterate that if anyone tries to interfere; we will crash this plane into LAX and kill thousands. Do you understand?"

Clarence looked beyond the 'studio' to the terrified passengers being watched over by men with guns. They had heard every word that Hawks had said, and this new information hadn't helped their moods. There were looks of terror and emotion on their faces, and he could tell that some of them had already accepted their supposed fates.

"Alright," he said quietly.

"Good. Right answer again Captain."

Hawks pushed Clarence into the camera's view and then followed again, standing facing the lens. A red light flashed on, and suddenly the camera was recording.

"Citizens of Los Angeles," Hawks began, "Most of you will still be asleep, but you may or may not wake up to devastation. We have taken control of an Airbus A380 on its maiden voyage; and if your Government doesn't comply, we will crash it into your busiest international airport. There shall be no further bloodshed if we are left alone. And just to give you things from another perspective, here's the captain of this good ship."

Hawks nodded and the camera panned towards the beleaguered captain who didn't quite know what to say. He just said what he was feeling at that point.

"I am Captain Clarence Oveur and I can confirm that what this man is saying is true. So far they have already killed one passenger, and I believe that they will kill more if we don't do as they say. I have been assured that if the Air Force does not interfere, we will land at LAX within a few hours and be let off the plane when they are satisfied with their escape plans. I urge anyone in authority who views this tape to comply with their demands; they have the power to kill thousands."

The camera panned away from Clarence towards Hawks. He looked straight into the camera and spoke his sign-off from the broadcast.

"We mean what we say; don't do anything stupid."

The camera stopped recording, bringing near silence to the airplane cabin. No-one could see it, but at that moment the video that had just been recorded was being sent over invisible waves upwards to a satellite in outer space, and then bounced back down to earth…and to every news station that could transmit it.

**2:56am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Bennett Law, Paseo de La Plaza**

Angela flicked the light switch on the office wall and illuminated the expansive, modern office. She walked slowly past the ten or so computer booths where her researchers and assistants worked towards the two walled-off offices at the end of the room where she and her partner resided. No-one was around at this time of night, only the night security guards, most of which were asleep in discrete parts of the building. Angela knew of the happenings at this time of night, but she hadn't the heart to tell anyone else. She knew most of the guards by their first names, and wouldn't dream of dropping them in it. She moved into her office and left the door open, doubting that anyone would disturb her. She powered on the computer and waited for it to be ready. She paced slowly around the room, flexing her aching neck muscles and trying to zone out from the headache that still pounded in her brain. She thought she heard a noise from the other side of the long room but thought it was nothing, and sat down in front of her computer, ready to find out everything there was to know about Roger Frederick.

Her attention was diverted again by what sounded like heavy footsteps on the expensive carpet outside, but she couldn't be sure. Then what seemed like a torch shone randomly around the room as a large looming figure stepped into the doorway, silhouetted by the darkness.

"Can I help you?" Angela asked, slightly frightened.

"I'm Officer David Graham," he said, flashing a badge quickly before Angela had time to make it out, "I understand you were in a car accident earlier?"

Angela froze, wondering how even a police officer could have known that after such a short space of time. She didn't quite know how to answer, but she didn't have to as the officer continued.

"I need you to come with me Downtown to answer a few questions about the circumstances."

There was something about this so-called officer that terrified Angela, and she knew that there were no circumstances under which she would be leaving this office in police custody.

"Fine," Graham sneered, "Have it your way," as he pulled a weapon from his holster and pointed it at Angela.

Suddenly there was a small sound of static, and the dark figure in the doorway fell. He gasped on his way down, and spun around in mid-air to view his attacker before he fell unconscious from the massive electricity of the tazer. Both he and Angela saw the woman; but only Angela knew who she was.

The woman who had picked her up vaulted Graham's prone body and grabbed Angela by the hand.

"Come on!" she yelled as she dragged her out the door and towards the exit.

"Who are you!" Angela yelled, hardly able to keep up with the clearly insane woman. She didn't reply as they ran down the eerily empty corridors towards the emergency exits, passing no security guards on the way. She suddenly feared that they may have been attacked by the same man who was about to abduct her, or maybe even by this woman who was now running away with her. She dug her heels into the ground and stopped dead, not intending to move until she got some answers.

"I don't know who the hell you are, or who that guy was…"

"He was impersonating a Police Officer in order to abduct you and kill you."

"How do you know that?"  
She didn't answer the question, she simply continued on the same tangent, "I know that you came here to look for information on Roger Frederick for your client Jack Bauer because you believe that he holds information that could prove Jack didn't kill David Palmer."

Angela froze, not knowing how to continue.

"Who are you?"

"We need to go Angela!" she yelled, pulling Angela with her.

"Who are you and how do you know so much?" she cried as she found herself moving again.

"My name is Chloe O'Brian…" the woman shouted back as they approached the front doors, escaping into the dark Los Angeles night, towards danger.

**2:58am Pacific Daylight Time**

**High Security Prison, Isolation Wing**

Jack Bauer sat crouched in the corner of his tiny solitary cell as the Doctor treating him packed his supplies away. There were guards waiting outside, but they were far enough away to be out of earshot. Dr. Benson had once worked at CTU before strangely being transferred to the same prison Jack Bauer was being held in. He was in the process of being transferred away to another prison, simply because of his history of knowing this apparently dangerous man. He had only ever done his job, and now he was being persecuted simply because he knew Jack Bauer; another person whose life was being ruined by Jack.

"Have they told you when you're being transferred?" Jack spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Not yet Jack."

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to be persecuted and stopped from doing your job."

"I'm still doing my job Jack. And I'll be doing it just as well wherever else I go."

"But if I wasn't here then you could stay."

"But you are here…"

"I need your help."

Marc stopped packing his things away and shut his eyes, "I don't like the way this conversation's going Jack."

"Leave me enough pills to end this Marc. I have nothing left, and I finally have the chance to end things. I'm fed up with ruining lives."

"I'm not going to help you kill yourself Jack."

"So you can wait and be the one who administers the lethal injection when they find me guilty?"

Marc hadn't thought of things that way. If he was still at the prison in the coming weeks, then he would have to be the one carrying out Jack's possible death sentence. And the way it was looking, there wasn't much chance of any other outcome.

"No-one is going to blame you Marc. They're just waiting to kill me; and if any one of the inmates or wardens were in your place then they wouldn't hesitate."

Marc closed his eyes again, hoping that Jack would stop talking if he did.

"You don't even need to do it. Just leave enough pills and I'll do the rest."

"You don't understand Jack. You just don't understand."

"Please Marc. Please let me do this."

Marc shook his head and stopped packing up; simply zipping the medical bag up and moving to leave; leaving behind a small pack of unmarked white tablets.

"I'm sorry Jack."  
"Don't be sorry for this."

"I'm not…" he said, turning around and staring straight at him, "I'm sorry for what happens after."

And with that, Dr. Marc Benson was gone, and after a short pause the cell door swung shut. Jack was alone once again.

He crawled over to the bag of pills and tore it open like it was his last meal. He had been left one glass of water which was meant to last him until the next shift came in with his meal, but he would need it all right now. He poured at least ten of the pills into his mouth and drank enough water to swallow them. They glided down his throat like ice-cold beer on a warm day. But the warmth was only due to Jack's happiness at his wretched life finally ending. He piled another helping of pills down his throat as he reflected on the past. His wife had died years ago, and he had never forgiven himself for that, but he always had Kim. Until one year ago, when Kevin Cassel and his men killed her and his ex-partner, Jack had believed that life went on. But in the course of that day, he was betrayed and left for dead by people he once considered as friends. Now the only person he had left in the world was dead, and he was alone. But there was comfort in the fact that he would be joining her soon.

His vision began to blur a little as he piled the last of the pills into his mouth, swallowing them with difficulty. His throat had begun to seize up due to being overworked, and his vision was becoming patchy and blurry. If any of the guards had decided to look into the cell, they would probably manage to make him throw the pills back up before they took hold, but no-one was caring for Jack Bauer. Jagged, horrific images of his life up to that point flashed through his mind as more and more black spots clouded his vision. He felt like he was floating, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. With his last ounce of consciousness, he smirked at how quickly the pills had worked. He curled up into the fetal position, ready to die alone, just like he knew he always would.

02:59:57

02:59:58

02:59:59

03:00:00


	5. Episode 204 3:00am to 4:00am

24: Ground Zero

Episode 2.04: "Day 2: 3:00am to 4:00am"

By

Chris Wright

Based on the television series 24

And

24: End of an Era

24: Ground Zero – Day 2: 3:00am - 4:00am 

"**The following takes place between 3:00am and 4:00am, on Friday 28th March, 2008…"**

**3:00am Pacific Daylight Time**

**High Security Prison**

Marc Benson waited just outside the solitary wing, breathing a little heavily at what he had done. He counted to ten, slowly, and then after a deep breath he turned around the corner and back towards Jack's cell. The guards looked at him suspiciously as he re-entered, but soon lurched into action as they too saw the prisoner's prone body. Marc leaned down over the body and loosely checked the pulse, pausing for a second before turning towards the guards.

"He's dead," he murmured.

"Get him to Medical! Now!" one of the guards screamed, running out of the cell to the communications point. Medical supplies including a stretcher were kept in a room towards the end of the solitary wing which the other guard already had open. Marc hated himself for what he was doing and what he had done, but he knew it was for the best. He glanced up wistfully as the stretcher was wheeled in to the cell.

Minutes later, Jack's still unconscious body was wheeled into the medical area of the prison. In a way, he would have wished he was awake, as this was the most relaxed level of security he had ever been resident in. The early hours of the morning meant that there were very little medical personnel present. In fact, Marc was the only Doctor in the building. The two guards still accompanied him, and were buzzing around his ears as he worked on Jack. At first he just ignored him, but they gradually grew more annoying.

"You know, I'd get on a lot better if I didn't have you bugging me constantly."

"Do you need us to do anything more?"

"Just to leave me alone and let me save this man," he shouted, clearly exasperated by the extra attention.

"I'll go and alert Leyland," one of the guards said as he left in a hopeless and flat voice; the sort of voice that knew exactly the reaction Leyland would have. One of glee.

Marc continued to work on Jack until he was sure the guards were far enough away, and then closed his eyes as if he was trying to hold something back. Then, with quick and deliberate movements, he replaced the instruments on to their immaculate stainless steel tray and stepped away from the body. He removed his gloves and surgical mask and took one last look at his patient before turning tail and almost running out of the theatre.

**3:03am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Santa Barbara Highway, Los Angeles**

Chloe O'Brian swerved in and out of the sporadic traffic on the highway as if the forces of hell were chasing her vehicle. Every so often she glanced at the rear-view mirror to ensure that nobody was following. She didn't take a blind bit of notice of the terrified Angela sitting in her passenger seat.

"What the hell just happened back there?"

"You almost got abducted. That's what happened."

"What do you mean abducted? He was a police officer and you just killed him."

"First, I didn't kill him," she said, as she swerved around another car, throwing Angela against the door and then regaining control, "And second, he wasn't a police officer."

"How do you know that?" Angela screamed, clearly mistrustful of this strange woman who had just assaulted someone before her very eyes.

"His badge number was New York; not Los Angeles."

"How could you have possibly known that? You didn't even look at the badge."

"I watched him go in. I came back after I dropped you off and waited for you to leave. He asked me to move along before he went in, so I followed."

"But why would a fake police officer come after me?"

"You really have no idea what you've got yourself into do you Angela?"

"How do you know my name?" Angela said suspiciously.

"There's a lot to tell you Angela, but this car isn't the place to do it."

Angela shook her head, not believing that any of this was real.

"So where are we going?"

"An old CTU safe-house."

"CTU?" Angela asked, something in the name ringing a bell, "Why does that sound familiar?"

"Because that's where Jack worked before he was falsely imprisoned. He worked there with me."

"None of this makes sense," Angela said, rubbing her eyes in a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare.

"It won't until I can explain. Just let me get to the Safehouse and I will explain everything. You just have to trust me."

"Alright," she said, in a tone that suggested she had no intention of doing it, "How far away are we?"

"About tenminutes,"

Angela stared out the window and stayed silent, not wishing to delve any deeper into the twisted story she had been written into. She watched other cars being over-taken and disappear into the rear-view as Chloe gunned the engine ever further, desperate to get to their destination.

**3:06am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Counter Terrorist Unit, Los Angeles Branch**

Chris Walker was still pounding away on the keyboard with his video games when Bill called him to the situation room. The reinforcements were here, and something in Bill's voice didn't sound right.

Chris moved to the floor of CTU and found every employee staring up at the video-wall at a transmission that must have been the source of Bill's anxiety. Chris only caught the end of the transmission, but he got the gist of it.

"I can confirm that what this man is saying is true," the ghostly white figure on the screen was saying. He seemed to be wearing the uniform of a pilot, but he couldn't be sure. The voice continued, "So far they have already killed one passenger, and I believe that they will kill more if we don't do as they say. I have been assured that if the Air Force does not interfere, we will land at LAX within a few hours and be let off the plane when they are satisfied with their escape plans. I urge anyone in authority who views this tape to comply with their demands; they have the power to kill thousands."

The tape then moved to an image of a much larger man, who seemed ex-military.

"We mean what we say; don't do anything stupid."

Then in the time honored tradition of subtle scare-mongering the video cut to a concerned looking anchor that was carrying the news.

"That was the disturbing video that reached our news-desks just moments ago from a satellite link-up on an Airbus A380 in the skies above Los Angeles. The video really speaks for itself, but so far the authorities are yet to comment on their approach to this horrific turn of events. To re-cap, terrorists have taken control of an Airbus A380 and plan to crash-land it into LAX if their demands are not met."

The feed closed, and suddenly Bill was beside him, along with the contingent of back-up that had just arrived.

"So what do you think Chris?"

"Scare-mongering; pure and simple," he sneered, showing his contempt for the media. He still remembered having to save a couple of reporters from the hands of weekend terrorists a year ago; and on that day they had used the media to cause panic. The only way to stop panic would be to silence them; and that seemed like a good idea in Chris's book. "They're not going to crash it into LAX unless we intervene; and I doubt we want to kill thousands. Are there any ground teams near LAX?"

"One team is on its way along with local law-enforcement, but it'll be too late. The broadcast is on every station on the west coast; LAX will be in chaos."

"And once again the news stations serve their people…" Chris remarked sarcastically, drawing a smile from his protégé Karen Jordyn.

"Well at least you'll have something to do now. I want you to take Jordyn with you to LAX."

"And do what exactly?"

"Well the last time I checked there might be a terrorist atrocity taking place there; I'd start by stopping that," Bill sneered, suddenly losing his temper with Chris's lax attitude. There was a long silence amongst the group while a tense stand-off ensued.

"Alright," Chris murmured, breaking the silence, "Come on Karen," he said to Jordyn as he stormed off. She followed, giving Bill a cautionary glance as she went. Mostly Chris's attitude didn't bother him, but recently, when things had been hard, there was always something that had got to him. But he was the best field agent he had, and that spoke volumes in a department like CTU. Bill turned and found Edgar and Corrigan staring at him; the latter with a scowl on his face.

"So why did you choose Jordyn to go with Chris?"

"Please don't debate this with me again Gabriel. It doesn't matter who goes or who stays."

"So what do you want me to do? Just sit here and play Tetris like Chris does?"

"Chris doesn't sit and play Tetris," Bill scoffed, unaware of the truth, "And there's plenty that needs done."  
"Anything out in the field?" Corrigan asked, already knowing the answer. "Just as I thought," he sneered after a long silence, storming off towards Field Ops.

Bill sighed, "Don't you just hate Field Agents…"

"Well not really, but I can see your point," Edgar replied.

"Well that's helpful Edgar, I'm glad I can rely on you," he said with a small smile.

"What do you want me to do Mr. Buchanan?"

"Milo's trying to decode a trace that we put on a phone call we received earlier; you'll need to help with that, it's our only lead."

The two began walking towards Edgar's station. Milo smiled and nodded as they passed and got up to assist.

"Hey Edgar," he said, "How's it going?"

"Alright," he murmured, concentrating on starting up his computer.

"How are things going with you and Chloe?" he asked innocently, before realizing his mistake.

"We broke up," he said, flatly, eyes unflinching.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Milo replied, simply trying to get away from the conversation.

"What do you need me to do with this trace Milo?"

"Just help me find out where it came from. I'll send the data to your screen."

Edgar nodded and took his seat as Milo went back to his station. Bill also walked away, back to his office, satisfied that at least one pair of extra hands was getting on with their work.

**3:12am Pacific Daylight Time**

**CTU Safehouse, Suburban Los Angeles**

Chloe slowly opened the door to the Safehouse and subconsciously checked the hallway for any activity. The past twelve months had taught her to be cautious, and now she acted more like a field agent than an analyst. She moved into the house and threw off her coat, trying to make herself a little more comfortable for the inevitably difficult conversation she would have to have.

Angela followed in timidly, still trying to blind herself to the situation she had fallen into. Who was this woman and why had she helped her? All this was feeling like a bad dream she couldn't wake up from.

"Are you going to explain yet?" she called after Chloe as she disappeared into another room. There was silence in reply so Angela followed her into a small kitchen, barely big enough for the two of them with the cramped appliances. Chloe had her back to Angela, but as she turned, she caused her to jump back. Chloe held a gleaming silver gun, loosely pointed at her. She stepped back a few paces, suddenly wishing she had gone with the policeman.

Chloe saw the reaction and backed off a little, "Relax, it's for your protection."

"Protection from what?" she whispered, still backing away.

"Honestly? I don't know."

"You need to explain to me what the hell is going on right now or I'm leaving."  
"If you leave then you'll be killed," Chloe said flatly, with little melodrama.

"Then tell me what's going on."

Chloe pushed past Angela and into the room adjacent to it which held a small table. She assumed that this was the dining room; and also smirked at how safe this safe house was – no-one in their right mind would want to come and visit.

Chloe sat on the far side of the table and motioned for Angela to sit opposite. She did, and then found herself face to face with the glare of Chloe O'Brian. She hadn't noticed it since she had met this strange woman, but her piercing blue eyes had a sort of mystery about them; something that made Angela stare deeper and look away in equal measures. There was pain in her eyes, but it was hidden well behind a pout that gave little away. From the sparse conversations they had had already, Angela could tell that this woman was not a social animal; even though her slight frame and lithesome body would have been a hit with most men. She crossed her left leg over her right and looked at Chloe, waiting for her to begin.

"My name is Chloe O'Brian, and around five years ago, I was recruited by the Government to work in the Washington D.C. branch of the Counter Terrorist Unit. I was nothing special, just a low-level analyst, but I was good at what I did. One day, a terrorist group known as Blue Wave unleashed a computer virus on our servers which could have crippled our anti-terrorist capabilities. I managed to stop it with the help of Agent Chase Edmunds, and we were both commended. I don't know whether it was because of that or something else, but two years ago I was transferred to the Los Angeles branch of CTU and began to work as a Senior Analyst for Field Operations under Jack Bauer."

Angela nodded and leaned in, glad that they were getting somewhere.

"He was my boss, and although a lot of the time I believed that what he was doing wasn't the best course of action, I supported him, and we became close.

"But then twelve months ago there was a change. He was sullen, withdrawn, and he showed little of the interest that he was known for. He went off the rails that day. His daughter and ex-partner – that's Chase Edmunds by the way – died due to the viral attack, and he had to watch the vice-president die right in front of him."

"And then David Palmer," Angela said innocently, hoping to get a reaction.

Chloe leaned in, "Why do you think people want to kill you Angela?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think Jack killed President Palmer?"

"Of course not."

"Then that's why."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jack didn't kill the President, but we don't know who did. There's absolutely no evidence linking anyone else to the crime; somebody very powerful did this and framed Jack."

"There is evidence," Angela calmly stated.

Chloe blinked, trying not to give too much away, "There is?"

Angela suddenly felt a little worried about whether this woman was telling the truth. She could be telling the wrong people what she knew; she could be betraying Jack.

"There has to be."

"You said that there was evidence. Not that there could be."

"No, I didn't," Angela stuttered, suddenly trying to backtrack.

"You don't trust me do you?"

"I don't know whether to trust you or not."

Chloe paused, placing her hands face down on the table. "Come with me," she said quietly, rising to her feet. At first Angela didn't move, but eventually she sidled up behind Chloe, always staying at least five steps behind her to give her time to react to any danger that might befall her. They wandered through the dark, dingy hallway and to a room at the very end of the hall. The door had a small gap which gave a perfect view down the long hall to the front door. Angela thought that it must have been the room where Agents barricaded themselves into when coming under threat. With apprehension, she followed Chloe through the door, but was glad to find simply a modern looking laptop sitting on the simple desk.

Chloe sat down in front of the screen and quickly brought it out of stand-by mode. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk as the computer gradually started up, every one of its important files initialising. She sat impatiently, searching around her as if even the walls were against her. She had planned for this day for months, but she had feared it coming. The laptop beeped, and she opened up an audio-video program. Angela leaned in and watched as Chloe deftly typed complicated looking commands. But suddenly the screen cleared and a video opened up. It didn't move, and had been paused.

Chloe turned around, "Now before I show you this, I need to know that you trust me."

Angela stared, trying to gauge whether this woman was lying or not. She couldn't tell.

"I trust you."

Chloe turned around again, and murmured, "Good." She clicked once and the video burst into life. The scene showed a small office; expensively furnished, but that only showed how small it was. But the blood drained from her face and moved to her brain as a person she recognised moved into the room. Officer Leyland.

He was clutching a cell-phone and seemed to be having a conversation with somebody, but only one part of the conversation had been amplified.

"James it's me. Angela Bennet just left the prison. She said she was following up on a lead."

Angela's blood ran cold. She suddenly realized who was behind her attack, and she was furious.

"He did it. He ordered the hit on me."

"Either that or the guy he's talking to…" Chloe murmured, not helping issues.

"How did you get this?"

"I don't really know. I can do anything with a computer, and I wanted to make sure Jack was OK. I tried tapping into prison surveillance but to no avail. But when I looked closer, I found discrete surveillance that was nowhere near official. These feeds were not meant to be there, but there were certainly people watching."

"What do you mean? Who was watching?"

"I don't know. They knew what they were doing, and they were watching everything to do with Jack."

Angela breathed in deeply, still unable to take her eyes off the video feed that had already told her so much. "I want to see EVERYTHING you've gathered so far. Leave nothing out."

Chloe nodded, and resumed working on the computer. Angela felt like Alice, deep in the rabbit-hole. But she had no intention of climbing out now. Not while the man she loved was in danger.

**3:16am Pacific Daylight Time**

**East Cypress Avenue, Burbank**

Michelle and Danny Dessler stood huddled over a desktop computer as they searched rapidly through mounds of data, searching in vain for information that would somehow incriminate Mike Novick in part of the Governmental conspiracy. They hadn't had much luck, but they were being patient – which was more than what could be said for Ryan.

"Dammit!" he cried as he slammed his fist down onto the table.

"What is it Ryan?" Michelle asked calmly.

"This is hopeless. There's a reason this has stayed buried for a year, and it's because it doesn't exist."

"That's not true Ryan, and you know it."

"You know what your problem is?" Danny spoke up for the first time since he had arrived, "You've got that stick shoved so far up your ass that you don't want to see the truth that's right in front of your eyes."  
Ryan moved to caution him, but remembered that he wasn't Regional Director of CTU anymore; he was just an ordinary citizen.

"Stop it Danny. Just because we believe this doesn't mean that everyone has to right away. We've lived with this for months; give Ryan time."

Danny mumbled a sulking reply before turning back to the computer screen and resuming his data dredge. But Michelle remained watching Ryan as he also kept looking. She got up and walked over to him, taking a seat beside him. She tried to start talking a few times before finally agreeing on the right words in her mind.

"How've you been Ryan?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean since last year. You lost your job not so long ago."

"Seven months ago. Last Tuesday," he recalled with deadly accuracy.

"What did the say?"

"They suggested that I would be better off forging a career somewhere else."

"That's the only reason they gave?"

"I suspect there was something else. When I questioned it, they mentioned things that happened that day; working while unfit to undertake my duties."

Michelle looked at him blankly.

"I was caught in a bomb blast while out in the field."

"You were in the field?" she said, unable to hide her surprise.

"Tell me; why does everyone think that way about me? Why does everybody think that I'm some beaurocrat that never puts himself in harms way?"

"I never said you were Ryan."

"But most people have. I understand where they're coming from; I'm not the most exciting person."

"Well Lynne must think so."

"Yeah," he smiled, for the first time that day, "I think she does."

"At least some good came out of that day."  
"I don't deserve her, but what can I say? We both lived for our work until it was taken away."

"What does she think of Jack?"

"She wants to be the one throwing the switch at his execution."

"Ah…" Michelle said with disappointment.

"Don't get me wrong Michelle; if Jack is innocent then I will stand by him, but if he isn't…" he trailed off, unable to finish. He didn't need to though, Michelle understood perfectly.

She felt the same way; Tony was completely sure of Jack's innocence, but Michelle wasn't sure. She was simply supporting her husband. But if Jack did turn out to be guilty, then their efforts would either be in vain, or land them in jail. Michelle squeezed Ryan's shoulder as she stood and moved back to her system, willing it to have found something – anything – on Mike.

**3:21am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Departure Lounge**

Tony and George wandered through into the departure lounge easily due to the massive traffic moving the other way. The broadcast that had been sent from the Airbus was playing loud and clear over the varying sizes of television monitors, and had caused both panic and morbid intrigue from the crowds of travelers. For every family fleeing the airport, there was another watching in awe. The reporters weren't giving away anything new; they were simply just spreading the panic. _Just like twelve months ago…_ Tony thought, shuddering a little.

"So who are we looking for?" George said in a low murmur, as if there were spies everywhere. Tony slipped a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and passed it sideways, giving George a good look. "And we're sure he's here?"

"As sure as we can be. His credit card was used here within the hour."

"Well if he's such a paranoid hermit then why would he use his credit card?"

Tony had pondered this, but he was trying not to delve too deeply. "If he isn't here then we can go home. But we need this guy."

"No, Jack needs this guy."

Tony stopped, causing George to slow, "Listen to me George. A few hours ago, you watched Curtis Manning die from a sniper's bullet, simply because he knew this man was alive. People are after us, and they will not stop until they have silenced us. So when I say that WE need to find this guy, I mean exactly that. This isn't completely about Jack anymore."

George was a little taken aback by Tony's outburst, but he knew he was completely right. He waited until the younger man moved in front of him and then followed towards the business parts of the terminal.

Roger could see his plan disintegrate in front of his eyes. He had spent twelve months simply running from the trouble he had got himself into, but he had refused to shed any blood. He knew that the people sent for him were only following orders, and he could even see their point in why he needed to be silenced. The secret he was holding could tear the country apart if released, and Roger had considered turning himself in many times; although he knew that as soon as the evidence was safe, he would be killed. That was the way it worked in the Byrne Government.

He stared aimlessly up at the Departure board and watched as more and more flights were either cancelled or delayed. His flight to London was still awaiting information, but he doubted if it would be taking off in the next few hours. He had exposed himself at the worst possible time, and as he looked around he swore that everyone was watching him – suspecting him. He slowly backed away, suddenly breathing heavily and sharply, so wrapped up in his situation that he didn't notice the two men stop behind him.

"Roger?" a voice spoke calmly.

He slowly turned around, fear gripping his throat, "Who are you?"

"My name is Tony Almeida, and this is George Mason," the silent man nodded.

"I don't know you," Roger stuttered, slowly backing away.

"Don't panic Roger. We're here to help you," the slightly Hispanic looking man said, outstretching a hand, appealing for calm.

"How do you know my name?" Roger wavered with rising tension.

"You need to come with us Roger. We mean you no harm."

"No. You're here to kill me just like everyone else. Well I'm not just going to lie down anymore," he cried as he turned and ran through the oblivious crowds in no particular direction. But when he turned around, he saw the two men close behind, keeping pace with him easily. He wasn't going to be taken alive though; he had run successfully for twelve months and wasn't intending to stop yet.

**3:26am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Medical Department, High Security Prison**

Officer Leyland marched officially through the narrow corridors of medical with the proud step of someone who had finally got his own way. He had just been informed that Jack Bauer had attempted suicide – showing his true cowardice. Ordinarily, this would constitute a full investigation into what had happened, but today was different. Once the subject was pronounced dead, there would be a superficial report, but then everything would be swept under the rug. That man didn't deserve anything else. However, Leyland was curious as to how Jack was able to kill himself while in protective solitary confinement – even though thinking of the possibilities still made him giddy. He was flanked by a solitary guard, but he no longer felt under threat in his own prison; Jack Bauer was dead. He turned and smiled at the warden, allowing him to share in his happiness.

"This is a momentous day Jim…" Leyland smiled.

"Sure is Sir. About time he paid for killing Palmer," Jim said with a swagger, "Pity we didn't get to give him the chair, but this'll do."

"We should tone down the feeling for a while. There are going to be questions about this, and we can't let out true views emerge just yet."

"What do you mean Boss? Ain't no-one going to be behind that murderer!"

"That may be true, but we need to retain our professional air. There will be plenty of time for after-hours celebration later."

"I'll drink to that!" he smiled, moving in front of Leyland to the medical door and swiping his keycard to open it.

The smiles suddenly disappeared though as an empty bed met their eyes. For a few seconds, neither man could react. They expected to see the grisly trophy they had dreamt about, but the reality was nothing. Leyland marched into the room, looking around in panic as though somehow the body had jumped in some outlandish spasm. There was nothing. He turned back to Jim.

"Get on the cameras…find out where he is."

Jim nodded and spun around; pretty much sprinting for the exit.

"And find Marc Benson."

Leyland was left truly alone in the room, his hands on his head, suddenly feeling like his whole world was about to collapse.

**3:32am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Skies Above LAX**

Clarence rubbed the back of his neck slightly as he stared out of the cockpit window into the eternal blackness. Although he had got through the 'broadcast' unscathed, he couldn't help but feel that he was aiding these terrorists. He would never forgive himself if he was responsible for any more bloodshed, but as far as he knew, there had only been one killing. He wanted to keep it that way.

The terrorist leader, who called himself Hawks, had ordered Clarence back to the cockpit to continue to circle the airport like a huge ominous vulture. He had no idea what the true plans for the aircraft were, but in a way he didn't want to. Suddenly there was a slight noise behind him. Kylie had begun to wake up.

She groaned and clutched her head as she rose slowly from her fold-out chair.

"What happened?" she murmured.

"You got knocked out by that guy who's taken over the plane."

"I'm so sorry Sir. He gave me no choice."

"Shh…just relax," Clarence cooed, pushing her gently back down into the chair, "You need to rest, you took a big blow to the head."

Kylie did as she was told and closed her eyes, trying to block out the throbbing pain that seemed to envelope her head. "What's happening out there?"

"They made a broadcast to the news stations saying that if anyone interfered then they would crash the plane into LAX."

"You think they're serious?" she frowned.

"Yes. They know what they're doing and they will make good their threats."

"I got you into this. I let him into the cockpit."

"You did what you had to," he said, putting a hand on the shaking woman's shoulder, "What's your name anyway?"

"Kylie…" she managed, "Kylie Goodyear."

"Well Kylie, things have happened on this plane that we can't control. The best we can do is comply with their demands and trust that they won't kill anyone else."

"Trust them!" Kylie exclaimed, "They're terrorists!"

"We have no choice," stated Clarence gravely, in a voice that left no doubt behind. Suddenly the door behind them opened and the tall figure of Hawks loomed over them.

"Everything alright?" he asked Clarence in a friendly manner before noticing the suddenly awake Kylie, "Ah, good morning Miss. Goodyear. Nice sleep?"

"Go to hell asshole."

"Well if you hadn't tried to be the heroine then you'd be upstairs with your colleagues in comfort. They've already broken out the champagne!"

Kylie turned away in disgust, unable to stand looking at the odious Hawks any longer.

"What do you want?" Clarence asked with a stone-cold stare.

"Well I've decided that this hunk of shit is coming down."

"What?"

"I assume you're familiar with landing planes?" Hawks sneered sarcastically.

"So less than two hours after hijacking the world's largest passenger jet, you're going to land it without incident at LAX and let the authorities take you in?"

"Who said anything about the authorities? Our rules still stand; if anyone interferes then we simply kill everyone on board. We're safe for now."

"You're insane," Clarence muttered with disdain, turning away.

"Maybe I am…" he smiled, "Maybe I am…Just clear a path for us on runway 5."

"Runway 3?" Clarence said, almost laughing, "You want to land an Airbus A380 on runway 3 of LAX?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"You can't land on that short a runway."

"I can't?" Hawks asked sarcastically, "Do you really think that I'm just some fucking shmuck that walked in off the streets? Did you really think that I didn't know that an Airbus takes exactly the same landing length as a regular 747?"

Clarence's heart sank.

"That's what I thought," Hawks sneered, "Tell your tower that you will be landing on runway 3 in a few minutes, and make sure you re-iterate that we are not to be disturbed."

Hawks turned and left the cock-pit, locking the door behind him. Clarence glanced over at Kylie and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort the quietly sobbing woman.

"Why is he doing this?" she sobbed.

"I don't know, I just don't know."

"I shouldn't even have been on this plane…"

"What do you mean?"

"It should have been one of the other girls on the course…but…I sort of slipped something in her drink so she couldn't make the flight."

Clarence stared at her for a few moments, before cracking up, and laughing uncontrollably even in the tense situation.

"It's not funny!" Kylie sobbed, staring at Clarence. But then, suddenly, she couldn't stop either and began to laugh along. "Ok, maybe it is a little."

"We're going to get through this," Clarence said, through his chuckles.

"I hope so."

Roger stopped his chuckles and looked out of the window, focusing on the bright lights of the landing strip at LAX. He picked up the radio and called the tower.

**3:37am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Presidential Retreat, Los Angeles**

Laura took one last look in the mirror before turning to leave the opulent Presidential suite. She was dressed to impress, but not so much as to attract attention. It would be tough to slip away at this time of the morning, but she couldn't resist it when Martin called. They had been seeing each other on and off for the past six months, and she was having the time of her life. She knew it was wrong, but Martin made her feel young again. She may have loved her husband, but he was too busy to give her the part of her life that she craved – and needed.

She strode out of the door – and straight into Joshua.

"Going somewhere?"

"Nowhere in particular…" she murmured, trying to push past.

"You seem to be in a bit of a rush. But I suppose, there's nowhere you could be going this early in the morning…" Josh retorted in a slightly raised voice. The two exchanged stares for a few seconds, as if sizing each other up. "Unless you are," he added with a playful, eerie smile. Something burst inside Laura's stomach, sending butterflies throughout her body. From the way Josh was acting, it seemed like he knew way more than he was letting on. He was young and brilliant, but he had never been subtle.

"What interest is it of yours of my whereabouts?" she asked, trying to deflect the suspicion.

"Well I'm your husband's Chief of Staff; it's my job to make sure everything in his life is as it should be."

"I'm not under your jurisdiction Joshua."

Laura's tone, coupled with the use of his full name stirred a little disdain within him as he replied, "We all know you're under no-one's jurisdiction Laura…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she hissed, still trying to keep her voice down unsuccessfully.

Josh paused, letting the comment sink in before replying, "Nothing. I only came because the President has requested your presence."

"What for?"

"Prime Minister Brand is flapping again. You know Stephen isn't the most re-assuring of people."

"So he wants me to coddle him?"

"I guess so…unless you have something better to do?"

"Tell him I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Splendid. He'll be thrilled."

Joshua turned around, unable to hide his smile as he moved away from the President's wife. He knew that she thought she had a dirty little secret, but it wasn't so secret to him.

Laura stepped back into the suite and cursed silently. She had no idea the extent of Joshua's knowledge, but she couldn't risk playing into his hands. She pulled the cell-phone from her clutch-bag and dialed the most recent number.

"Hello my darling," Martin's deep voice said warmly, "Will I be seeing you soon?"

"I'm afraid not," she sighed, "Something's come up and I need to stay here for a while."

"Nothing bad I hope?" Martin spoke with genuine sounding concern.

"No, no - just my darling husband needing me to save the day again! I should be done in an hour or so. You still want me to come and see you?"

"My darling, I yearn for you to see me. I'll be waiting…"

Martin hung up and left Laura with butterflies again. Deep down she hated herself for doing this to her loving husband, but she couldn't stop.

**3:41am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Staging Area**

Jordyn pulled the CTU-issue SUV into the parking bay with practiced ease. Walker couldn't help but admire her skills; both in Field Work and in Driving. She had risen up through the ranks so quickly that most people in authority would not have given her such responsibility; but Bill Buchanan had put faith in her at great personal risk. And she hadn't let him down.

They exited and were met immediately by two older police officers who seemed to be running things.

"You must be Agent Walker," one of them said, feigning interest.

"I must be. This is my colleague Agent Jordyn."

The four exchanged greetings as the police officers introduced themselves and their purpose.

"I'm Officer Hill and this is Lieutenant Warne. Want me to fill you in on what's happened so far?"

"That would be lovely," Chris smiled, semi-sarcastically, as they moved off towards the busy staging area on one of the outer runways.

Hill talked quickly as he walked, clearly a little annoyed at having someone else take over his job. "We've just been told that the plane is coming into land on runway 3 in a few minutes. That's over there," he pointed to a highlighted area of a large map that had been pinned to the side of a communications van, "They've re-iterated that no-one come near them, otherwise they'll kill every hostage on board."

"Any further idea on why they're doing this? Any demands?"

"Not really, it's all very cryptic. We're going to try and set up contact with them when they got on the ground."

"Alright. Have you been monitoring things inside the airport too?"

"That's another thing. About twenty minutes ago we picked up something."

Hill moved towards a bank of temporary video walls and nodded to one of the men sitting at them. A video feed flashed up of the main terminal, seemingly recorded.

"These two men waited for this guy," Hill pointed to a solitary man, "and then they took off. We can't get a thread on them after this feed ends."

"Pull the tape back," Walker said, not taking his eyes from it.

"What are you seeing Chris?" Jordyn asked, her interest raised.

Walker didn't reply and simply moved closer to the screen. "Pause it there!" he almost yelled. The video froze with the two men half facing the camera, but their identities were unmistakable.

"Tony…" Walker breathed.

"Who?" everyone else asked in unison.

"That is Tony Almeida; ex-Director of CTU. The other one is George Mason, ex-temporary Director."

"What are they doing there?" Hill asked, now taking his turn to stare at the feed.

"That's what we need to find out," Walker said, already half way towards the terminal.

"Where the hell are you going!" Hill exclaimed.

"To find those men."  
"But they could be nothing to do with this hijacking! We need you here!"

Walker turned and stopped to stare at Hill. "I'm sure you won't mind taking charge for a few more minutes Officer Hill. Or if you do then I'm sure Agent Jordyn can handle it."

He then turned and marched into the terminal building, determined to find Tony and George for whatever reason they were present.

Not too far away on runway 3, the massive Airbus touched down without incident. Clarence had landed thousands of planes, but none of them were done with so much pressure or regret. If it wasn't for the hundreds of passengers on board, he would have quite happily crashed the plane into the runway and made sure the terrorists couldn't make any more demands. But he couldn't be a hero, not today. He glanced over at a terrified Kylie sat in the co-pilot's chair and felt for her. He had heard how excited everybody was to be involved with the maiden voyage of this plane, but he would bet his life that none of them could have anticipated what lay ahead. He taxied the plane carefully into its parking bay and then stopped, just in time to be able to turn and find Hawks standing in the cock-pit doorway.

"Routine landing. Well done."

"What happens now? Are you letting us go?"

"Where did you get that idea? You're staying here until we get what we want."

"And what is that exactly? You don't seem to have said."

"I don't have to justify myself to you Mr. Oveur."

"It's Captain Oveur…you coward."

The tension rose in the cockpit to the point of explosion.

"Cowardice…is such an ugly word…" he took one step forward, allowing him to stand to his full height, "Do not misuse it again."

Clarence was not a tall man, but he strained his muscles as far as he could. "You don't scare me."

"You should be."

The two men postured for a few seconds, trying to regain the upper hand, before Hawks turned slowly and left the cock-pit, locking the door behind him. From the window, he could see the police teams advancing slowly and carefully. He prayed that they wouldn't get too close; because even through all his bravado, Hawks chilled him to the bone.

**3:46am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Terminal 1 Maintenance Corridors**

Roger was waning. The perfect shape he had kept himself in when he was part of the White House staff was just a distant dream these days, and it was showing. He had always been quick, but at least one of the men chasing him had no problems keeping up. But what he didn't understand was why they weren't shooting; especially as they now found themselves in the deserted maintenance bowels of the airport. They seemed more or less intent on catching and not killing him, but he would rather die than be taken alive.

He tried desperately to pump the lactic acid from his aching legs as his feet pounded the concrete. All he could hear were the sounds of his pursuers feet close behind as pinpricks of light began to shine in front of his eyes. If he didn't stop soon, he would pass out, and that would be suicide. He spied an off-shooting corridor and darted in, taking his last chance for escape.

Tony watched as Roger darted away and quickly followed without thinking. Before he could react, a fist flew from the darkness and connected with his nose. Blood almost immediately splashed as bone struck bone, cracking with a sick sound. Tony was thrown into the adjacent wall by the sheer momentum of the blow, just as the source of it reached for his holster.

George panted around the corner, wondering how long he could keep Tony in sight for. He was nowhere near as fit as the other men and it showed; not since he was exposed to plutonium had he felt this bad. As he rounded the corner, his heart leaped at the sight of two stationary men, but he was soon knocked back down when he noticed Tony - down and bleeding.

"Don't come any closer," Roger growled as he backed away, getting both Tony and George in his sights.

"Take it easy. We're not here to hurt you."

Roger continued to back away. "I don't believe you. Why are you chasing me? I've done nothing wrong!" he cried in a panicked voice.

"We know you've done nothing wrong Roger. We've always known."

"How the hell do you know my name!"

"We know more than that…" Tony grunted, attempting to get to his feet through the blood, "God damn it, you broke my nose."

"You shouldn't have been chasing me then. I had no choice."

"You could have trusted us!"

"How am I supposed to trust you? All you've given me is two names which could be bullshit!"

Tony reached into his pocket and tossed a leather wallet. As Roger opened it, an identical photograph beamed out through the grimy wallet. It was Tony's old CTU badge, clearly outdated.

"You……work for the Government?" Roger stammered, leveling his weapon at Tony's head.

"No!" George cried, stumbling towards the prone Tony, "No, we don't! We used to, but we don't now!"

"I don't believe you!" he yelled, still pointing his gun.

Something clicked inside Tony, something much more important than worrying about the gun that was pointing at him. "You weren't going to kill me until you found that out, were you?"

Roger backed up, trying to distance himself as much as possible.

"Why Roger? What have you got against the Government?"

Roger was backing up quicker now, the adrenaline beginning to fade. Just as he was about to turn tail and run, Tony dropped the bombshell.

"It's because Jack Bauer didn't kill David Palmer isn't it?"

He stopped, trying to gauge from Tony's bloody face what he was getting at. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Listen to me Roger; I know that you have incendiary evidence that could take down some very powerful people. With the hijacking, there's going to be hundreds of Government employees all over LAX. We are not here to take you in or to kill you; we're here to find out the truth. To protect you."

Roger's grip on the gun began to wane.

"You don't have long to decide Roger. We can help you get away or you can kill us. Your choice."

Roger wavered, not really knowing who to trust. Eventually, he tucked the gun into the back of his pants and moved towards Tony, helping him to his feet.

"I'm sorry about your nose. But you have to understand the hell I've been through these past twelve months."

"I do understand," Tony grunted as he stood up, "But you need to put a lot of trust in us. Can you do that?"

"I think so."

"Let's go," Tony murmured as he moved forward, closely followed by George into the darkness of the service tunnels.

Unbeknownst to the group, just around the corner at a safe distance, Agent Chris Walker stalked after them. The words he had heard both piqued his curiosity and chilled his bones. After a moment, he turned the corner and followed, into the unknown.

**3:52am Pacific Daylight Time**

**CTU Safehouse, Los Angeles**

"Hold on," Chloe yelped, "I've got something."

Angela almost leapt from the chair she had reclined in with the adrenaline of Chloe's words. The screen flashed up an image of a prison cell containing two men, one of which Angela had no trouble of identifying as Jack Bauer.

"That's Jack! When was this recorded?"

"Just under an hour ago. It's Jack's cell."

Angela watched with interest as the feed burst into life, muffled voices suddenly being heard.

'I know exactly what you'd do with the time you had Jack,' the other man said.

'What's that?'

'You'd go and be with Angela and her kid.'

Angela's heart melted as she saw Jack smile at the thought. It was what she wanted too. But the mood changed as the two men looked up at someone who must have entered.

'Good morning Jack,' the familiar snooty voice said.

"Leyland…" Angela growled.

'What do you want Leyland?'

'I have some news for you. I think we should speak in private.'

'Whatever you have to say you can say right here.'

'Very well. There was a car accident and it seems that Ms. Bennet didn't make it.'

The voices went on, but Angela couldn't hear them. She already knew that it was Leyland who had authorized the hit on her, but hearing him pronounce her death made her nauseous. She watched as Jack broke down right in front of her eyes, and she couldn't help but do the same. She turned and made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Chloe asked, turning from the screen.

"I have to go to him. I have to let him know that I'm OK. I have to."

"You can't go alone. You won't get anywhere near the prison!"

Chloe bowed her head, "I need to lie low for a while."

Angela's jaw fell. "So after all that shit earlier about caring for Jack you won't help me get to him?"

"If we both go then we're sitting ducks. They've already tried to kill you twice!"

"So help me. You've already protected me once."

"I can't."

"Goodbye then Chloe," Angela spat as she flounced off, "I guess you weren't as dedicated as I thought."

Chloe went to reply, but the words caught in her throat as she did. Angela plucked the car keys from the counter as she left and almost ran out of the house, leaving Chloe alone, just like she'd been since she forced Edgar out of her life. For the first time in a while, she missed him.

Angela left in such a hurry that she didn't notice the unmarked van very similar to the one that had forced her off the road earlier that morning.

"Shouldn't we stop her?" a gravelly voice from inside the van said.

"No. We can pick her up later; Miss O'Brien is a much bigger problem."

**3:56am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Perimeter Fence**

All was relatively quiet at the perimeter security gate on the other side of the airport. The south side of LAX was always quieter with it being simply a light freight entrance; but this morning it was even more so. The chaos on runway 3 had drawn most of the security away, leaving only two security guards manning the gate. That was considered enough cover for such a quiet passage.

Inside the small cabin, Frank Symes watched his colleague Lloyd Cole pace across the closed gate. He smiled and looked back to the security feed from outside and yawned, stretching his aching limbs. Nothing had happened since the hijacking call had come in, and he was beginning to feel sleepy. Suddenly a van moved into the security feed and stopped at the closed gate. He watched tiredly as Lloyd went through the motions of taking identification and performing a search. He watched as he disappeared from view and relaxed a little. Lloyd had this one covered.

Frank turned in his swivel chair and began to watch the sports highlights that were playing quietly on a small television screen. He watched absent mindedly for a few moments before turning back to check on Lloyd's progress. The van hadn't moved.

Frank stared for a few seconds, assuming that things were just being held up, but still there was no movement. He sighed, muttering a curse under his breath as he got to his feet and shuffled out of the cabin. He popped on his flashlight and pointed it through the windshield of the van.

"Anybody there?" he yelled a little timidly, "Lloyd?"

He advanced slowly, suddenly feeling fearful.

"Lloyd?" he repeated, with trepidation.

It was then that he noticed a prone foot being dragged away from sight around the corner of the van. He pulled his gun.

"Stop right there!" he yelled, "Come out with your hands up!"

"I'm coming!" a frightened voice said from the back of the van. A short, well-built man stepped out, his hands raised, throwing his gun to the floor. Frank would have moved forward to detain the man if he hadn't found a deathly cold barrel pressed against his temple.

"Now it's your turn to put your hands up," a deep voice growled from somewhere behind him. He did as he was told slowly.

"Who are you guys?" Frank stuttered.

"We're the last people you'll see if you don't do what we ask."

"What do you want?"

"Open the gate and then we'll see."

Frank was spun around and pushed back towards his cabin. As he turned, he saw two men, both with guns pointed at him, watching and waiting. He moved slowly towards his cabin with shaking legs, his senses numbed. He moved in and flicked the switch for the gate, beginning its slow opening cycle. As he turned, he jumped in fright as he found one of the men right behind him.

"Thank you. You've been a great help."

He pointed the weapon and fired twice into Frank's chest, sending him flying back into his chair. The man checked Frank's pulse as the van pulled up outside, on its way through the gate. Once satisfied, he left the cabin and hopped back into the van on its way towards the freight warehouses.

**3:58am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Unknown Location, San Gabriel Mountain Range**

Jack's head was swimming in a sea of pain and noise. As he half-opened his heavy eyelids, the world in front of them was a swimming sea of psychadelia. Colours blended into each other and then seemed to explode. Jack had no idea where he was or what state he was in. The last thing he remembered was staring at the dull, grey wall of his holding cell as he waited for the drugs to end his wretched life. "Am I dead?" he thought he heard himself say, although he couldn't be sure that was even real or whether he was hearing his brain talking. His whole body burned, and his stomach felt as though it was eating itself.

Suddenly, he began to wonder if this was hell. He had always joked that men like him were destined for hell, but he wasn't a religious man; hell wasn't meant to exist. He tried to move part of his body, anything to confirm his existence. Nothing moved, even his fingers seemed to be frozen to the object he was lying on. Inside his head he was screaming, but all he could hear was the intense ringing in his ears.

The colours in front of his eyes were interrupted by a dark shape moving into his view. He tried to lift his head to get a better look, but even his neck muscles were paralyzed. The figure was tall and now seemed to be standing in the general area of his feet. The ringing continued, but it was added to by a low voice.

"Hello Jack. It's been a while."

3:59:57

3:59:58

3:59:59

4:00:00


	6. Episode 205 4:00am to 5:00am

24: Ground Zero

Episode 2.05: "Day 2: 4:00am to 5:00am"

By

Chris Wright

Based on the television series 24

And

24: End of an Era

24: Ground Zero – Day 2: 4:00am - 5:00am 

"**The following takes place between 4:00am and 5:00am, on Friday 28th March, 2008…"**

**4:00am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Unknown Location**

Jack's throat burned as he took in the words the figure in front of him had said. His brain was working overdrive to compensate for his bodies inabilities, but the voice sang along in his head, giving it a mystery aspect that made it impossible to trace. He strained his neck from the table, and for the first time since he had woken up, he began to feel the strain. From what he could make out, the figure was tall, and stood with a proud air. He hadn't spoken since his last words, and at that moment he seemed to be surveying Jack like the proud catch that he was. Jack desperately searched his brain for some – any – indication of how he had ended up there, or even where 'there' was. He tried to speak, but his throat burned and forced the words downwards again.

"Relax Jack, you're safe here," the same voice sang from the darkened figure. From what Jack could tell, the voice had a slight accent, one that was definitely not American. He couldn't tell which it was exactly, but he certainly had a feeling that he had heard it before.

"You're probably wondering where 'here' is," the voice continued as the figure turned and paced away, "but I'm afraid I can't tell you exactly. It certainly isn't Oakland High Security Prison, that's for sure." The figure turned again and walked back towards Jack, moving to his right and stopping. "You've spent twelve months in hell Jack…now I'm giving you the chance to pay it all back…"

This person's words cut into his brain like a saw blade. He had so many questions on the top of his tongue that he felt as though they would all explode at once and come out in a jumbled mess. But none escaped through the fire in his throat, no matter how hard he tried.

So he tried harder. There could be no giving up, not while he was in such a mess. He swallowed hard, tried to force the fire away, and croaked a few words. "Who…are…you?"

The man seemed to chuckle slightly, before leaning into the spotlight that surrounded Jack, causing his blood to stop flowing.

The figure was revealed to have short, neat blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes that held massive arrogance. There was no mistaking those eyes, Jack had looked into them and saw that same arrogance twelve months ago.

"You mean you don't remember your old friend Kevin, Jack?" Cassel sneered with clear contempt.

**4:06am Pacific Daylight Time**

**CTU Safehouse, Los Angeles**

Without a sound, three men slipped out of the unmarked van and padded silently towards the CTU Safehouse. The conditions were perfect for an urban assault, and these men had been in enough of these situations to know that. The first rays of sunshine were appearing tentatively on the eastern horizon, but the darkness was still enough to hide the three commandoes decked in black. They were lightly equipped, but each held a large sidearm rigidly ahead of them, covering every single possible angle of attack. They had let Angela go without incident; they were more interested in the ex-CTU analyst.

The head of the three man team was Brian Grazer – an ex-Navy Seal who had too much time on his hands since he had given up the rigorous training regime. He had been approached three months ago with an opportunity to hone his skills and earn a little more money, and now here he was, culminating the project. They had spent almost all of the three months simply watching Chloe, and even that had proved difficult. In fact, Brian wished that she had been around when he was doing his psychology degree; he could have had a field day observing her. She was highly intelligent, but also highly paranoid. It had been nigh on impossible mounting most surveillance methods without her knowing, and there were many times where he even believed she was employing counter-surveillance. But she was no Field Agent, and she was up against two ex-Seals and an FBI agent who did free-lance work on the side. Fortunately for them, the people authorizing this attack would make sure no trouble found its way to their doors. They were safe.

Brian signaled silently to the two men behind him to approach the back door, hoping to gain the first advantage in the attack. Their primary objective was to capture the target alive to extract whatever information she may have, but they had agreed that killing her first would be unlikely to cause much trouble. Silence was the real objective. Brian peered tentatively through the corner of the partially boarded up window as his colleagues began to pick the lock, and yawned a little with the fatigue associated with not sleeping in days. But a quick flash caught the corner of his eye and he instinctively ducked back – just in time to dodge a bullet that broke through the wood paneling into the outside world. For a split second there was confusion, but the clouds soon disappeared as Brian shouted his command.

"Go."

One of the men took a sure step back and aimed a sturdy boot into the center, cracking the door open just as another bullet whizzed by. Brian had already bounded past his men and into the house as a blurred figure disappeared around the corner. He heard a door slam, and a heavy lock sliding into place as he rounded the corner, seeing the door that had slammed shut. He drew his weapon and moved slowly towards his target.

"Miss O'Brien, we're not here to hurt you."

"Go away," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

Brian rolled his eyes as his colleagues joined his side.

"Alright, I'll be completely honest with you Miss O'Brien. Outside your door are three highly trained commandoes here to take you in. We're not here to kill you - that is not in our interests. But the truth is that the flimsy barrier you are hiding behind will not hold for long. We could kick it down whenever we want, but we'd rather you co-operated."

"Well there's not much chance of that," Chloe sneered, "And remember I have a gun too."

"I know, you almost hit me back there. You should be careful – analysts aren't usually issued with weapons."

Chloe paused for a second, realizing that these people had done their homework. "I'm not an analyst anymore, I don't work for CTU, go hassle them."

"I'm afraid we don't have that option Miss O'Brien," he motioned to his colleagues to move forward, "You have ten seconds to open the door or we'll open it for you. One."

Chloe searched her room for an escape route and found none. She was encased in a small cage with only one exit – designed to offer protection and an advantage when agents were holding the higher ground. But Chloe had one two bullets left, one less than she would need to end this siege. She could hear her attackers counting outside the room, but she had tuned out. She had been so careful so as not to draw attention to herself since she had left CTU, but she must have gotten sloppy. And now three men were about to kill her. She sat down on one of the stained sofas in the corner of the room and waited.

"…ten…" Brian said with glee, as he nodded to his men. They lunged at the door, and to their surprise it broke open easily. They half fell into the room with their weapons still drawn, but didn't react quickly enough to dodge the second bullet Chloe fired in their direction. It buried itself in one of the men's legs as he collapsed and slid into a corner with the momentum, causing him to scream in pain. She threw the weapon to the ground and held her hands up as Brian entered the room.

"OK, I'm ready to go now," she sneered.

Brian had to smile a little over the sheer bravado of this woman, but it didn't matter anymore. She could have killed both the men who had accompanied him for all he cared; he was in control now. He moved towards Chloe and cuffed her quickly. "Let's go," he frowned as he almost dragged her out of the room. He was tired, and he wished he could have been home with his wife and kids; he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

**4:13am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Service Tunnels**

Tony walked five steps in front of George and Roger as they stalked silently through the service tunnels, searching for a way out. He did so to search for any danger, but they were unlikely to find any during such a situation. The last work station they had passed was deserted, with a television set against the wall making the only noise. They had paused for a second to watch the live footage of the plane making its descent and landing not far from where they were now. Although it suited their situation perfectly, Tony suddenly remembered that if it hadn't been for Jack, he would have probably been leading the investigation into the hijacking. As it happened, he was now waist-deep in corruption with no foreseeable way out. But they couldn't stop now.

Tony pushed on, never even stopping to check his bearings. If they found a dead end they would backtrack until they found familiarity and then go another way. The paranoia between the three of them alone was enough to give them no reason to stop.

"Where exactly are you taking us?" Roger whined from behind Tony.

"We're trying to get out of here and then get you to a safe place."

"I was going to a safe place before you kidnapped me."

"I'm not in the mood for this Roger, don't start."

"If you've got anything constructive to say…" George began before being interrupted.

"I've got plenty…"

"Do you have anything constructive to say?" George re-asked, his voice raised. Roger didn't reply. "Thought not," George sneered, quietly satisfied.

"We need to find the next work station and hope there's some kind of map there," Tony said without stopping or turning around.

"With the amount of cops and agents that are outside, we're going to need more than a map."

"As soon as we reach the perimeter then we're civilians; we'll be alright from there unless anyone recognizes us."

"I knew I should've grown a better beard," George quipped to an unimpressed Tony. "Fine, don't appreciate my humour," he retorted, pouting.

The three men moved forward in their loose triangle into the darkness, wrapped up in their own tension and paranoia. So much so, in fact, that they still didn't notice the silent stalker they had acquired. Chris had holstered his weapon, but he was still alert and ready for any eventuality. He hung back and allowed the group to move far enough in front of him and then pulled his radio from his hip.

"Jordyn, come in," he hissed quietly.

There was no response.

"Jordyn!"

"Yes master?" she replied with her usual sarcasm.

"Keep your voice down, I'm trailing Tony."

"Still? What's going on in there?"

"I don't know. They seem to have a hostage, but he's consenting."

"What are you going to do?"

"Well I can't just march up to them. As soon as they do anything wrong I'll move in. They have nowhere to go."

"Keep me posted."

"I will. How are things out there?"

"There's been no communication. We're getting ready to move."

"Be careful."

"Despite what you've taught me Chris, I will be."

He clicked off his radio and placed it back in its holster. Then, ever so quietly, he followed.

**4:18am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Staging Area, Los Angeles International Airport**

Brad Edmunds sighed and rubbed the rapidly growing stubble on his chin slowly. He gazed into the distance at the massive Airbus on the tarmac along with hundreds of other personnel charged with bringing the caustic situation back from the brink. But he was even more important; he was the negotiator. An anxious looking officer rushed towards him, brandishing a cordless phone with white knuckles. He handed it to Brad and gave a slight forced smile as he turned and left. The call was ready to go through to the cockpit of the plane, and Brad prayed that the terrorists were feeling generous.

Brad listened as the dial tone sounded, waiting for an answer.

Onboard the plane, Hawks stared at the ringing phone, intending to leave it to the last moment to answer. Clarence and Kylie sat in terror, not knowing what to expect until their captor reached out slowly to answer. He hit the speaker-phone button and moved into full-on charm mode.

"Hello friend,"

"Is this the hostage taker I am talking to?"  
"I believe so. And who are you?"

"I am Special Agent Brad Edmunds of the FBI."

"How wonderful for you," Hawks replied flippantly. "So what brings you here today Brad?"

"To make sure this all ends peacefully."

"Good. We have the same aims."

"And what are they Mister……what should I call you?"

"You can call me whatever you like," Hawks sneered, trying his best to give Brad the most trouble.

"Well what would you like to be called?"

"How about Brad? That's a nice name."

Brad could feel himself growing tired of this man's games, but his training had taught him to never show that. He was saved from such embarrassment though.

"Alright. Call me David."

"OK David. I think you should let some of your hostages off the plane as a gesture of good will. After that, any of your demands will be met without hesitation."

"Well I think that they should all stay here until I decide to let them go."

"So you're intending to let them go?"

"Of course. I'm not a monster."

"So what would it take for that to happen David? Talk to me."

Hawks smiled slightly before speaking. "There are tens of thousands of prisons around this country with thousands in California alone. All I ask is that you release one prisoner from North Bank Penitentiary in Texas. He's only meant to serve another six months of his sentence; but I miss him. His name is Michael Whitman."

"Alright. It's going to take a while to go through the proper channels, but I don't see why we can't do that."

"Oh, did I forget to say that for every half hour there will be punishment?" he said, almost laughing.

"Now let's not do anything stupid here David."

"I agree. It would be a stupid idea to condemn any more people to death for your mistakes. If I don't hear from you in the next half hour, we will broadcast the killing of a hostage. Goodbye."  
The line went dead, leaving Brad staring into space, shocked at the sudden turn of the call. He may have started out with niceties, but there was nothing Hawks had said to give Brad any hope that he was lying. He took a deep breath and called for his team to get started on finding Michael Whitman.

**4:21am Pacific Daylight Time**

**CTU Safehouse, Los Angeles**

Brian stretched and paced slowly around the now empty living room of the Safehouse. He had banished his colleagues to the corridor outside so he could concentrate fully on the task at hand. Ryan, the FBI agent who had been wounded, was still bemoaning his misfortune while Miles tried to sympathize. Neither Miles nor Brian had been happy when Ryan was added to the team, but the inflated bounty made up for that.

Brian turned and took in the view of Chloe O'Brian, bound to a simple wooden chair in the middle of the room. He had to admire her simple beauty, even with the awkward non-name clothes she insisted on wearing. Her dirty blonde hair was tousled and messy, but it still sat perfectly around her cute, if pouting face. Despite her dowdy appearance, her body was perfectly proportioned. In his mind's eye, he imagined what it would be like having his way with her, but that thought was soon shaken from his brain as he tried to focus. He shook his head a little, cursing the onset of senility. He stood tall and proud, but he was still pushing fifty years old. These days, every job could be his last, and he intended to treat every one like it was.

He moved to the small table he had placed in the corner and picked up a small blade from the set of eight he had brought especially. He turned back to Chloe and smiled, walking slowly towards her. "Do you like the toys I brought Miss O'Brien? Usually I just make do with any old rubbish, but I thought I'd make an effort for you."

Chloe simply sneered and turned her head away, closing her eyes.

"You see I was approached for this job over three months ago. I have spent all that time watching you and preparing for today," he brushed a hand across her face, placing an errant strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "I've watched you for so long, Chloe…"

"Don't you dare touch me," she growled, "Or I'll rip your throat out."

Brian stifled a chuckle. "I don't think you'll be doing anything of the sort Chloe."

"You'd be surprised," she said, staring with ice cold hate.

Brian smiled and stood up, facing away from her. "Why did you leave CTU?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

Brian turned, stared for a few seconds and then advanced, running the surgically sharp blade across the top of her forearm, producing an incision all the way across. Chloe winced but kept her pout. "Chloe…you were an analyst at CTU. You have never been trained to withstand the sort of interrogation I can make you suffer. I will make you feel pain you have never experienced, and I will not stop until you tell me what I need to know."

"And then you kill me afterward?" Chloe sneered, still staring.

"Not if you talk to me," Brian lied, "You're too pretty to kill."

Chloe looked like she was holding back nausea as Brian made another deeper incision in her arm. The blood flowed slowly out and ran around the curve of her arm and then dripped to the floor slowly. She winced again, but small cuts didn't bother her too much. "Is that all you've got?"

Brian stared for a few seconds before moving slowly back to his table of instruments. He opened an unmarked bottle and poured the clear solution into a bowl, seeming to wash the bloody blade in the liquid. He moved back to her, the blade glistening with moisture as he went.

"Why did you leave CTU?" he stated each and every word.

Chloe shook her head, suddenly wondering what was on the blade. She soon found out as he made another small incision. Her eyes widened as a searing, burning pain coursed through her body, making her brain and every nerve ending scream. The pain rose up in her body and made her cry out with a guttural roar as the blade was drawn slowly across the fresh wound. She bucked against the chair, trying desperately to escape the pain. After what seemed like an eternity, Brian took away the blade and took a step away. He leaned into Chloe's face twisted with pain and smiled.

"You really can't take this can you Chloe?"

Her face contorted and her muscles screamed for mercy, but she did not relent.

"All you need to do is tell me what I need to know and the pain will stop."

Brian waited, staring into Chloe's ice cold eyes as they searched in vain for escape. She stammered and tried to mutter a response, drawing him closer.

"Go to hell."

Brian's eyes flared. He had tortured many people in his lifetime, but most had cracked even before he had used this treatment. He stood and turned back to his table of instruments, taking a deep breath. He began to prepare something that Chloe couldn't make out.

"The stuff on the knife was mostly a salt solution, with a few rogue agents thrown in for good measure. I'm sure it hurt pretty badly, but that was just the tip of the iceberg." He reached for another unmarked bottle and opened it slowly. "I know that there are things you are aware of, and I need to find out what they are. If you tell me then I can make the pain go away."

"I don't know anything!" Chloe cried through the continuing pain.

"Well you've certainly been snooping around Jack Bauer's life a lot lately – there must be a reason for that?"

"Because I care about him, that doesn't mean I'm part of some conspiracy!"

Brian turned and faced the defiant woman. "You're lying."

"I'm not," she cried, tears streaming down her face.

Brian shook his head, smiling a little as he reached behind him and retrieved a syringe filled with a milky solution.

"What is that?" Chloe asked, suddenly filled with fear.

"A nice Government mix of chemicals; some truth serum and a useful little mix that's going to make every nerve ending in your body feel like they're on fire." He moved ominously towards her, clutching the syringe like a dagger. "Last chance Chloe. Tell me what you know."

"You can inject me with whatever you want, but I'm not saying anything to you."

Brian shook his head and looked down. "That's too bad."

He rolled up the sleeve of Chloe's sweater and stabbed the syringe into a visible vein in her shoulder. For a few seconds there was silence, but then a blood-curdling scream filled the house.

**4:25am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Presidential Retreat, Los Angeles**

Laura stumbled into the conference room of the Retreat, still pulling back her long brown hair into an improvised ponytail as she entered. She had rushed to get ready, although the haste was more so she could leave as early as possible. She smiled at her husband, and he returned the favor as he clicked on the screen to show Prime Minister Michael Brand waiting anxiously.

"Good morning Michael, I trust you had a safe trip to your hotel?" Stephen asked in a sweet voice. Laura rolled her eyes slightly at the paranoid Prime Minister; although he and Stephen were great friends, she knew that he sometimes became exasperated by Michael's twitchy nature.

"Well after what happened earlier, it was like a dream."

"That's good Michael," Stephen said, ignoring his acid tone, "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"I just wanted to go over the plans for the summit meeting once more."

"Michael…we've been over this a thousand times…"

"It doesn't hurt to be sure Stephen. So is security as it should be at the Hotel?"

Stephen glanced over to his wife and smiled, giving the cue.

"Four Secret Service teams have been stationed at the hotel since midnight, and they have reported nothing out of the ordinary so far. Two more teams of Secret Service are due to begin a final sweep at 6am, with at least one hundred Police personnel patrolling the grounds already."

"Good. I believe that there is a combined EU security team also taking care of the event, along with personnel form MI6."

Laura's heart skipped a slight beat. "I was unaware that the EU were sending a team."

"The security of this event is paramount, Madam. We had to take precautions."

"Who is we?"

"Chancellor Kohler, President Pique, Prime Minster Giuseppe and myself."

"You organized an EU team to operate in a country without consulting that country? Forgive me, Prime Minister, but wasn't that a little forward?"

Stephen glanced over as if to caution his wife, but she was a strong willed woman. She watched as Michael blinked once, letting the words settle.

"With all due respect, I don't believe the US Government can protect this summit effectively."

This time Stephen didn't want to hold his wife back, as he himself couldn't. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me Stephen."

"You're suggesting that this country cannot protect the heads of state of the world…"

"Well you couldn't protect David Palmer, could you?" Michael interrupted. Stephen's blood froze. The comment would have been bad enough, but Stephen knew the truth of that night. He suddenly couldn't shake the image of Jack Bauer screaming at him, David Palmer's lifeless body lying bleeding in his arms. He believed he had done the right thing, but he was still haunted by the memory. He stared at the defiant looking Michael and leaned in towards the screen, trying to take control of events.

"Mr. Prime Minister, I don't appreciate having my security insulted like this; especially when it makes reference to one of my country's darkest days. The murder of David Palmer was down to a…psychotic individual, not a lapse in security. I appreciate your caution, but do not insult me or my country in that way."

Stephen was red-faced and almost panting as he stared with his beady eyes at Michael. There was a pause as the tension rose to boiling point.

"Noted Stephen. But we are not calling back our security. We will just need to find a way to work together. They should arrive within the hour."

"Within the hour?" Laura exclaimed, "Secret Service need to prepare for such arrivals – you need to give us more time!"

"You've had twelve months to prepare for this summit. Make it happen."

Suddenly the screen went black, leaving a seething Stephen. He turned to Laura. "Where does he get off talking like that?!" he yelled.

"Calm down Stephen, everyone's just a little worked up today, especially after what happened with their plane. Just let it go."

"How can I let it go?!" he yelled, "How dare he mention David like that!"

"Calm down. Please. I'll go and speak to Aaron now and update him on the situation. It just means that we'll need them to work a little harder. It's a setback, but nothing we can't handle."

Stephen leaned forward and rested his head on his hands. "You know that's what I love about you Laura; you see the good in everyone."

"I'm just an optimist. There's no point worrying about something that shouldn't be worried about."

"I wish I shared your view Darling."

Laura stood and walked around to Stephen's side of the table, stroking his hair and kissing him on the top of the head. "Try and get some rest baby, you've got a few hours before you need to leave for the summit."

"But what about the EU force?"

"I'll get Aaron to see to them. I'll take care of it, don't worry."

"I don't deserve you," he murmured, placing one of his hands on hers.

"Yes you do," she whispered in reply, planting a small kiss on his cheek as she pulled away and left. He didn't know it, but all she intended to do was give Aaron Pierce a quick heads up before going away on her own little mission with Martin. She strode out of the room, aware of her husband's eyes on her. She regretted having to do it, but that was just it; she felt like she had to.

**4:31am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Unknown Location**

Every muscle in Jack's body, including his brain, was screaming for revenge. In front of him sat the man who had been partly responsible for the death of his daughter, and somehow he was supposed to be grateful.

"Why am I here?" Jack growled, using all of his strength to keep his composure.

"You should be grateful. We used your friend Dr. Besson to get you out of the prison you shouldn't have been in."

"Grateful? You killed my daughter."

"No Jack, I didn't. That was Mikhail. He infected Chase with the virus, not me."

"But you were the one who threatened her at her house. You are responsible for her death. And you assisted in the murder of David Palmer…"

"NO!" Cassel interrupted, exploding from his chair, "Don't you dare accuse me of something I had no knowledge of!"

"How can you stand there and deny what you did?"

"I was recruited for the earlier parts of the plan, mainly to secure the virus. I was betrayed Jack, just like you were. My country has abandoned me, as has yours. You and I are in the same boat."

Jack sneered in disgust, "Don't even mention me in the same breath as you. I was an Agent for the Government charged with stopping people like you…"

"And look where it got you," Cassel interrupted again, "In jail for the murder of one of your greatest friends."

The tension caused the conversation to fall silent again, and the two men eyeballed each other. Eventually Cassel dropped his gaze and moved towards Jack, bending down to his eye-level.

"Do you not think I've spent these last twelve months regretting what I did? Do you not think I lay awake at night knowing that what I did contributed to the death of one of the greatest Presidents this country has ever had? Because of me, Stephen Byrne – a cold blooded murderer – holds the Presidency."

"Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?"

"No. I just want you to understand."

"Why did you break me out? Why me?"

Kevin stood and paced away slowly. "I may have had twelve months of regret, but that time was spent planning my revenge."

"Your revenge?"

"Stephen Byrne betrayed me. He recruited me for a suicidal plan and then left me for dead. My country has spent almost five years distancing themselves from my name, and now they have forged an alliance with that – that murderer. They are going to pay for their betrayal with their lives, and their citizen's lives."

"So where do I come in?"

Kevin turned slowly, staring into Jack's cold stare. "Do you hate Stephen Byrne?"

"Yes," Jack stated with clarity.

"Good. Hate is one of the most productive – and destructive – emotions. But really my question is, who do you hate more? Stephen Byrne?" he said, then with a little smile, "Or me?"

Jack was silent as he stared at Kevin, trying to gauge the true meaning of what he was asking. He was giving nothing away. He moved slowly to Jack's side and placed a handgun on the cold metal of the table. He took three steps back and looked to the ground. "Make your choice Jack."

Jack looked at the gleaming handgun that had been placed in his reach and suddenly couldn't think of anything else. He didn't know if what Cassel was doing was a test or whether the gun was a decoy, but all he could think about was sending a cold, hard bullet into the terrorist's skull. It was the chance he had been praying for since the man had been responsible for his daughter's death. Now was his chance to have his revenge. But he didn't understand Cassel's words – why he had asked who he hated more. What had he brought him here for, and why him? He had an idea, but in his situation he couldn't be sure of anything. Only one thing.

He reached with aching arms for the weapon, gripping it with surprising strength. He used all his mental energy to lift the seemingly hundred-weight of metal and pointed it at the unflinching Cassel. He readied the weapon, flicking the safety off like he had so many times in his life. He aimed with blurred vision, but he could feel the invisible sight burning holes in his target's forehead. He was ready, and this was what he had been waiting for. But Cassel stared back, unflinching, calm, composed. He closed his eyes, pulled the trigger, and pictured Kim.

The chamber clicked and fell silent, no bullets available to satisfy Jack's revenge. He opened his eyes and stared in horror at the smiling Cassel.

"Did you really think I'd give you a loaded gun Jack?"

Jack couldn't speak.

"This was just a little exercise in control. Don't get me wrong, we need you, but don't – and I mean DON'T – think for one second that you have any control over what happens."

Jack tried to speak but the words melted on the arid desert of his tongue.

"I'll be seeing you soon Jack," Cassel smirked as he turned and left the room. Jack heard the heavy door slamming shut as he closed his eyes to the desperation of his situation. He had never been under anyone's control, but now he had no choice.

**4:36am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Service Offices**

Tony carefully slid into one of the large offices and flicked the light switch, praying that it was empty. Satisfied that it was, he motioned for George and Roger to follow. They moved into the vast room and noticed that it was some sort of staff room. Tables and chairs lined one side of the room with fridges, cupboards and a single pool table occupying the other side. Tony moved quickly, scanning the whole area for anything that could help them out of their current situation.

"Where are we anyway?" George asked from behind him, throwing the cue ball across the table into the cushion.

"Seems like one of the staff rooms."

"But where exactly is that?"

Tony turned and shrugged, searching through some of the drawers. George thought better than to annoy the stressed Tony anymore and turned to speak to Roger.

"How you holding up?"

"I'm alright," he murmured, staring off into the middle distance.

There was a moment's silence, with neither man knowing what to say.

"We're going to be OK," George reassured.

"How can you know that?" Roger said, shaking his head, "How do you even know we're going to get out of this place alive?"

"Because I trust that guy over there. He'll get us out of here."

Roger gave an ironic laugh. "Trust. You shouldn't trust anyone."

"Everyone needs to trust someone."

"I trusted someone. I trusted Mike Novick. I would have died for him - probably because he was my life for five years. More fool me."  
"What do you mean?" George asked, his interest raised.

"He found out he was being framed. The real mole in the Government used him as an easy target. He knew that Jack Bauer wouldn't be too far behind, so he gave me the evidence against the mole. I trusted him; but that evidence has caused me nothing but hell."

George watched as Tony disappeared around a corner. "Do you know who the mole is?"

Roger looked into George's eyes with a look of complete sadness. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you…"

George went to reply to find out more, but found Roger holding a finger to his lips for quiet. He stared in the direction of where Tony was searching earlier as the sound of muffled voices became apparent. The two men watched in horror as Tony backed into view, his hands raised, followed by a focused looking Chris Walker, brandishing his weapon.

"Hey George, mind helping Tony explain what the hell's going on?"

"Chris?" George exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I caught you on the security feeds just before everything went to hell. Please tell me you're not part of this hijacking."

"What?!" Tony cried, seemingly affronted by the suggestion, "We're nothing to do with that!"

"Well I'm afraid I find that hard to believe Tony."

"Believe what you like…"

"Come on Tony…you lost your job six months ago and dropped out of life. What happened to you? And why the hell do you end up here? Today of all days?"

"I can't tell you Chris. I just can't."

"Well you either tell me now or I take you into custody. Your choice. And just remember that you're a private citizen now – there won't be any special treatment."

"What does he mean Tony?" Roger called from behind Tony, "A private citizen?"

"Stay quiet Roger. Don't say anything to him."

"You said you were a Government Agent. You're not are you?"

"Roger!" Tony wheeled around, "Shut up!"

"The pieces are unraveling Tony. Give up. I'm not accusing you of anything; we can get you out of this place."

Tony glanced over to George slightly and then back to the still ready Walker. He judged distances and positions in a split second and made his choice.

"I can't go with you Chris," he murmured, moving slowly towards him, one arm outstretched.

"Stay where you are Tony. Stop."

"What's the matter? This is just some friendly advice from an ex-agent to a current one."

"And what advice is that?" Chris asked, watching Tony advance in a panic. He was an experienced agent, but he knew Tony Almeida. Any other suspect and he would have shot to wound, stopped them in their tracks, but he couldn't. He was transfixed on the slithering voice of Tony as he moved slowly towards him; so much so that he couldn't react in time to block his attack. Tony lunged and grabbed the barrel of the Heckler & Koch pistol, pointing it away from him as he spun with his other arm, clamping it in a vice like grip around Chris's neck. Before the young agent even had time to gasp, Tony had wrenched the weapon from his hands and driven the butt into the groove of the man's forehead, knocking him out cold. He crumpled to the floor, his equipment clanking against the floor as it struck. Tony closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, only opening him once the rage had left his body in an immense rush. As he did, he saw George and Roger staring open-mouthed, but both for different reasons.

"We need to go. Now."

"I'm not going anywhere with you two. Not after this."  
"Roger; you have to understand that lying about my position was necessary to get you on board. I used to work for CTU until I was fired for believing that Jack didn't kill David Palmer. Fired for believing what you believe in. If you want to leave here without us then it's your choice, but there's a lot of people out there who will want to kill you for what you know. All I'm doing is protecting you until we release that evidence."

Roger was silent, staring Tony out intensely. He seemed to be thinking something over, and Tony didn't like not knowing what. Eventually the man conceded. "I'll come with you."

"Good. Let's go. He'll be awake soon, and he's going to be pissed."

George and Roger exited the room just as Tony swiped Chris's PDA from the pocket of his vest, powering it on as he rushed from the room. He smiled as the schematics of the area they were in flashed up and continued leading the other two, this time with an idea of where they were going. He pulled his cell-phone from his pocket and called Michelle, hoping that she could help them escape.

**4:41am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Tony and Michelle's House, Burbank**

"Tony!" Michelle cried, answering the phone almost immediately and pressing it onto speaker.

"Michelle, I need you to listen to me. We're in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Michelle asked, trying and failing to keep her voice steady.

"We have Roger Frederick in custody, but Chris Walker found us."

"Chris Walker? The CTU Agent?" Michelle asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, he's been following us ever since we found Roger."

"Where is he now?"

"He's out cold. I had no choice."

"Alright," Michelle murmured, not really believing it was, "What do you need me to do?"

"In a few minutes he'll be awake, and the first thing he'll do is call for backup. We need you to find us a way out of here past any patrols. I've got the schematics but apart from that we're running blind."  
"I'm on it!" Danny yelled from behind Michelle, already spinning to use the computer.

"Good. I need to go Michelle, let me know when you've got something."

"I will. Tony?"

"Yeah?"  
"Be careful," she said, on the edge of tears.

"I will."

Michelle stared into space as the dialing tone replaced Tony's voice, eventually reaching out to cut it off. She stared again for a few moments before moving aimlessly towards the couch and slumping down into it. Ryan watched her with a feeling of unease, and wondering if Tony's situation was the only thing worrying her. He sidled along the couch and placed a hand on her knee.

"He's going to be OK Michelle."

She didn't respond and simply continued to stare into the blank space in front of her.

"Come on, he's been through a lot worse before. He just needs to get out of LAX and he'll be fine."

"It's not that," Michelle murmured, still staring.

"Then what is it?"

"I've almost lost Tony before…I don't want to lose him…I can't."

There was something in Michelle's voice that told Ryan she was hiding something huge. "Are you sure that's all it is?" he said, squeezing her slender knee a little.

"What do you mean?"

"Michelle; you don't get to be District Director of CTU without having basic social skills. I can tell when people are hiding something."

Michelle looked at Ryan, staring at him with her big brown eyes. Tears had begun to form in the corners of them.

"Tell me what's wrong Michelle."

She looked to the ground and whispered, "I'm pregnant."

The words hit him like a train, suddenly realizing that everything had changed. He understood why Michelle was so upset, but having a child was a joyous occasion.

"Does Tony know?"

"No. He's been so preoccupied lately with helping Jack that I hadn't the heart to tell him. And I want to help too; he won't let me if he knows."

"So when are you planning on telling him?"

"After today. Once Jack's trial is over then he'll either be a free man or beyond help. Today is when we do all we can, we can worry about tomorrow later."

"How far along are you?" he asked, glancing at her belly.

"A few months."

"Jesus Michelle!" Ryan exclaimed, "You shouldn't be doing all this today!"  
"I made my choice, and I want to help. If you want to tell Tony then fine, but he doesn't need this right now."

"He's the father; he has the right to know."

Suddenly the atmosphere stiffened and the two were silent. Ryan spoke next, fully on the defensive.

"I'm not going to tell him Michelle, but please tell him soon. For his sake."

"I will."

Michelle managed a weak smile before standing up and going to see her brother. Ryan watched her go, feeling for her in the midst of the chaos.

**4:44am Pacific Daylight Time**

**CTU Safehouse, Los Angeles**

Even from outside the room, Chloe's screams were clearly audible. But inside the room, Brian was a little aggrieved that this woman was resisting his interrogation. After all, she was simply a techie with little field experience; she should have broken a long time ago. He was growing desperate, and had increased the dosage to levels normally considered unsafe. He held his face inches from Chloe's face, contorted with pain.

"Tell me Chloe! Tell me what you know!" he screamed to no response. She stamped her feet as hard as she could into the carpeted floor, trying to give her brain something to focus on instead of the pain. "I'm going to keep going until you tell me exactly what I need to know Chloe! The doses are going to keep getting bigger!"

"Go to hell you fcking coward," she spat, causing Brian to rapidly fill another syringe and begin to lunge towards her. Suddenly respite came as his cell-phone rang out. He stopped the needle inches from the array of red marks on her arm and paused for a few moments, before reluctantly placing the blade on the floor at her feet.

"I'll be right back," he growled, snatching the phone from his pocket and turning away.

Chloe watched as he opened the door to the room and stepped out. She hoped that he would close it behind him, but unfortunately he did no such thing. But the distance between him and where she sat was comfortable. She probably wouldn't get a better chance.

"What do you mean you let Ms. Bennett go?" Wayne Lawler blurted, wishing he hadn't heard what Brian had just said.

"I thought O'Brian was the priority Sir," Brian backtracked, suddenly fearful.

"I said I wanted both of them – Bennett should be dead by now!"

"We'll make it right Sir. I promise."

"How are you supposed to make it right?! Do you know where she is?!"

"Chloe does. I'm in the process of interrogating her."

"You better hope she talks soon; I've already disposed of a team who didn't manage to kill Angela Bennet," Wayne said clearly, letting the words hang in the air for full effect.

"Understood Sir. We will not fail you."

"You better not," he yelled, hanging up in anger. The heat of the early Texas morning wasn't the only thing that was making Wayne sweat.

Brian replaced the phone and swore quietly to himself. He knew what he had to do, so took a deep breath and walked back towards the open door to the interrogation room. Chloe's chair seemed to be a little askew, but he shook the thought off as paranoia. He moved into the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Now," he smiled, "Where were we?"

Chloe was silent, and her head hang down into her chest. She didn't move, and the assets Brian had been admiring greatly were not rising and falling as they should have been.

"Chloe?" Brian said with a faltering voice, shaking one of her shoulders. There was no response. "Come on Chloe, you're not going to die on me!" he yelled, placing his ear against her chest to try and find a heartbeat – or any noise that would acknowledge life. But as he did, his gaze fell on the patch of carpet where he had placed the syringe earlier. For a moment, he hesitated, but as soon as he heard the strong, alive heartbeat in Chloe's chest, he tried to move away. He was too late however, as Chloe drove the syringe into her captor's chest with her now free left hand. It was a fluid movement that he could not have avoided, and so was the inevitable fall. But even before he hit the ground, Chloe was there to cushion it, and make sure that he didn't make a sound. She held a hand over his mouth as his body convulsed and shook from the pain.

"If you make a sound then I will kill you," Chloe rasped, suddenly showing a different side. She leapt up and moved over to Brian's table of equipment, retrieving his handgun and leveling it at the door. She looked down at the prone and writhing Brian and said, "Now you can scream."

Brian yelled to his men not to come, but sure enough they burst through the door, only to be fired on by Chloe. She fired five times without reply, with three of the bullets finding their targets. Two of them hit Ryan's chest, while the other found the soft tissue of Miles' brain. Both men flew backward with the force of the bullets, spreading large blotches of blood against the cream wall. She stared for what seemed like an eternity at the two dead men, and cried a little inside. The past twelve months had been a revelation to her, and now she barely recognized who she was. She shook her thoughts from her head and knelt down beside the still writhing Brian.

"Tell me why you're here," she said, pointing the gun at his sweat-covered temple.

"The tables have turned now…" he winced.

"Yeah, and now I'm in charge. Tell me."

"To find out what you knew, then kill you."

"Why me?" Chloe cried, pushing the weapon into his head.

"Because you got involved with Angela Bennett."

"Who wants me dead?"  
"A man called Wayne Lawler gave the order. God knows who orders him."

"You're telling the truth?"

"Yeah."

Chloe pushed the weapon further into his head and willed herself to pull the trigger. This man had interrogated her relentlessly and without emotion for almost an hour, and now all she wanted to do was take his life. But as she crouched over him, her hand shaking, she couldn't do it. Her anger at herself built up until she drove the butt of the weapon into his forehead, knocking him out cold. For a few moments, she sat in the lonely silence of the Safehouse, tears streaming down her face.

**4:48am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Maintenance Area Exterior**

Tony pushed the fire exit door open into the last darkness of the Los Angeles night and drank in the cool air. It had been a long time since fresh air had hit his face, and he took a moment to savor it before moving back to the situation at hand.

"Where is this evidence Roger?"

"What do you mean?"

"As soon as we get out of here, people will be looking for us. We need to get your copy of the evidence."

Roger stared at Tony for a second in disbelief before suddenly changing. "I'll need a computer with a high speed line."

"Why?" Tony asked, suspiciously.

"The evidence is on a secure server hosted off-shore in a highly encrypted volume filled with useless junk. Only I can gain access to it, and there's only one way I can do that."

"I don't think it would be a good idea taking him home to Michelle…" George murmured, not helping matters.

"I know a place," Roger said, suddenly seeming very helpful for a frightened man.

"Where?" Tony asked.

"An internet café downtown. I used to go there when I had no worries. I'm sure after your little performance in there you won't mind a little breaking and entering."

"Why the sudden change of heart Roger?"  
"What do you mean?"

"A few minutes ago you didn't even want to come with us, and now you're suggesting locations to break into. Why there?"

"Because I know the systems and I can get the evidence faster," he said without blinking. Despite Tony's training, he believed him to be telling the truth.

"Alright. There's a security gate that way – once we get back to our car then we can just drive out."

The three moved towards the mostly empty parking lot, glad to be out of the cavernous maintenance area, but unaware of Chris Walker rising unsteadily to his feet inside.

**4:50am Pacific Daylight Time**

**San Gabriel Observatory, San Gabriel Mountains**

Cassel opened the door to the small viewing room and smiled at the frowning Ivan. There was a second of eye contact before the Ukrainian turned back around and stared through the two-way-mirror to the room beyond. Cassel sauntered slowly up to Ivan's side and took in his view.

"The famous Jack Bauer," Ivan murmured, "I should be overawed."

"You mean your not?" Cassel smirked.

"I don't take kindly to someone like him being involved in our plan."

"He's valuable, and a cold-blooded killer. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have."

"You killed is daughter Kevin – what makes you think he'll help us?"

"We have the same interests. We were both screwed by the same man – and we both want our revenge."

"But like you mentioned, who would he rather have revenge on?"  
Cassel shook his head and stared straight ahead as Jack slowly and painfully swung his aching legs to the edge of the table he lay on.

"I've read his file," Ivan murmured, waving a manila envelope of highly confidential files in Cassel's face. No matter how much they battled with each other, Cassel always admired this man's skills. With only an hour's notice, he had managed to get Jack Bauer's full file, including some of the more controversial special ops details. The large Ukrainian opened the folder with delicate hands and began to read aloud. "Director of Field Operations, CTU; Special Agent in Charge, CTU; Special Weapons and Tactics, LAPD; Combat Applications Group, US Military…" he said, each new reference making Cassel squirm a little more, "…and a few operations that not even I could get details of. This man is dangerous Kevin."

"I know that Ivan; you're forgetting what happened twelve months ago."

"No Kevin, I'm not. That is exactly why he shouldn't be here. He was spent his entire life protecting this country; what makes you think he's going to change today?"

"His job isn't to destroy the country, it's to get Byrne out of office," he said, before turning to stare into the ice blue eyes of Ivan, "he doesn't need to know the whole story."

"You're taking a huge risk Kevin."

"I understand, but he doesn't need to know our final plans. He will help us as long as he believes this is just about Byrne."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Ivan frowned, turning back to watch the now upright Jack.

"So do I," Cassel replied, doing the same.

**4:53am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Small Farmhouse, Twenty kilometers south of the Presidential Retreat**

Laura Byrne quietly closed the door of her luxury Sedan and pulled her shawl around her shoulders against the cold. The front of the farmhouse was dark, and she could barely see her hands in front of her. She felt her way along the waist-high wall that ran to the left of her car until she found the front of the house. The door was already open, but it led into continuing darkness. She moved in slowly, feeling her way, but suddenly stopped as she felt hot breath on the back of her neck. Suddenly a strong pair of arms was around her as she was spun around. Normally a woman would be shocked, but Laura was used to Martin's big strong arms. She enveloped herself in him and their lips met passionately. For a few moments, they seemed to be one person sharing two bodies as they intertwined with each other with frantic speed. Laura's eyes rolled back in her head as she let the endorphins take her higher – and let Martin take her higher still.

**4:55am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Airbus, Los Angeles International Airport**

Clarence stared at Hawks, shaking his head, still unable to believe what he had heard him say to the negotiator.

"How can you justify killing someone every thirty minutes? It's insane."

"I won't have to if they meet our demands."

"You're a monster…" Kylie spoke quietly from behind them, staring into the middle distance. Hawks turned around slowly and moved towards her.

"And why is that sweet-cheeks?" he asked, running a hand down her pale face as she cringed.

"Get the hell away from me," she spat.

"Now that's not very nice Kylie. I've kept you alive and this is how you repay me?"

"So kill me then!" she spat into Hawks' face, "Put me out of my misery!"

Hawks seemed to consider the possibility for a moment before almost bursting out laughing. "Now that's what I like about you Kylie…you've got courage. And anyway, you're too pretty to kill."

The two locked eyes and Hawks couldn't help but notice the hate that radiated from her brilliant green eyes. He could have stared into them forever, but his phone began to ring out, breaking his attention.

"I'll be right back," he grinned, leaving the cockpit quickly.

"You're out then?" Hawks said with expectation.

"Yes. The acquisition went without a hitch."

"That's good to hear. Where are you now?"

"Just outside LAX – we just left."

"Good," Hawks said, with a note of wistfulness in his voice.

"You know what you have to do now, don't you Hawks?"

"Yes. I'll begin releasing the hostages soon, and then I'll end this."

"Good. You'll be rewarded for this in the afterlife Frank."

"I know. Makes it all the sweeter."

"Good luck," the caller said, ending the conversation abruptly. Hawks took a deep breath, ready to end this whole situation.

Back at the staging area, one of Brad's team yelped in surprise as they struck a problem.

"It can't be…" he said, standing up from his chair. Brad noticed and moved over quickly.

"What's happening?"

"There's no such person as Michael Whitman. There never has been an inmate of that name at West Bank Penitentiary."

Brad's pulse quickened as he ran through the possibilities of the revelation, wondering why he had been sent on a wild goose chase. But he intended to find out. As he moved over to the phone however, it rang of its own accord, causing him to pause for a second. Then, with slightly trembling hands, he answered.

"Brad Edmunds speaking?"

"Hey Brad…change of plan."

"Wait just a minute David. There's no such person as Michael Whitman, is there?"

"Of course there isn't! But well done for finding out so quickly. Well I've decided to show some humanity and let the hostages go."

Brad was temporarily speechless. "Why are you doing that?"

"Would you like me to keep them?"

"No, no! When will you be releasing them?"

"In a few moments. Stand by."

The line went dead, leaving Brad staring in the direction of the plane as the doors swung open.

Onboard the plane, the passengers were lined up along the length of the plane as they awaited their escape. The emergency escape chute cascaded down onto the tarmac as the first passenger leaped to his safety. He was followed by another and another as Hawks watched on from the safety of the plane's interior. He watched as Kylie emerged from the cockpit nervously, and smiled broadly as he stopped the next passenger from leaving as she threw herself down. It was a shame to have to let such a fine specimen of a woman out of his custody, but he was a gentleman above all. But his smile quickly turned to a frown as he noticed a line of black figures moving in a wide arc in the distance. He squinted intensely, and eventually couldn't mistake the formation of the CTU team moving towards the plane. He turned quickly and marched for the cockpit, grabbing the phone when he got there.

"What the hell are you doing moving on the plane?!" he yelled to Brad before he could even say hello.

"We need to secure the hostages safety David. You know that. We're not here to take you in."

"Too bad. You've overstepped your mark now. This is over."

The line went dead for a final time, allowing the dialing tone to be the last sound Brad heard before the ear-splitting noise of an explosion ripped through the air.

The last thing Brad saw before he was forced to the ground was the sight of a massive fireball engulfing the airplane.

**4:58am Pacific Daylight Time**

**San Gabriel Observatory, San Gabriel Mountains**

Jack sat hunched on the end of the metal table he had awoken on not long before and stared into space. Where had his life gone so wrong? He asked himself whether it was when Teri died, or sometime even before that. Teri was such a bright individual, and he had loved her more than anything. Nina Myers had taken the dearest thing in his life and for that he had killed her in cold blood. He still did not understand what had compelled him to fire on her wounded body all those months ago in the Counter Terrorist Unit. He had watched her half-heartedly reach for her weapon, but he could have easily out-maneuvered her and kept her alive. He chose not to, and instead shot her three times, extinguishing the flame of hate that had been burning out of control since she had taken his wife.

But what was so different about today? He had awoken to find himself in the custody of Kevin Cassel; the man who had also taken something he loved. His only daughter. He was just like Nina Myers, and in fact he was pretty much just a male version. He was cool, calm and collected when it mattered, and no matter what Jack tried, he couldn't seem to intimidate him. And he had also responded by lashing out, and killing those closest to him. But the difference was that Jack had had the perfect chance to kill him and had not taken it. He had instead wounded him and left him for CTU to pick up later, and had finally paid the price. Now, because of his indecision, he was under Cassel's control. If he was a weaker man, he would have cried for his situation.

His thoughts then turned to Angela, the woman he thought he had loved. She was an angel; sent into his life to make it better, and she had paid the ultimate price. Her death had been ordered simply because she wanted to help Jack – the cause of many a death during his life.

But still he would not cry. Even at the thought of another dead woman who had dared to love him. He was a monster in his own eyes.

His thoughts were jolted by the heavy lock sliding open and Kevin Cassel moving slowly into the room. Jack saw an automatic weapon hanging in a holster by his side, seemingly for protection against a madman.

"So are you with us Jack?" he asked, a slight eerie smile on his face. Jack stared, the tears welling up but subsiding before they could fall. He visualized himself with Teri and Kim. He was happy then, and it was a better time. Those days were long gone though.

"I'll do it," he murmured, hating himself intensely.

4:59:57

4:59:58

4:59:59

5:00:00


	7. Episode 206 5:00am to 6:00am

**24: Ground Zero**

**Episode 2.06: "Day 2: 5:00am to 6:00am"**

**By **

**Chris Wright**

**Based on the television series 24**

**And**

**24: End of an Era**

24: Ground Zero – Day 2: 5:00am - 6:00am 

"**The following takes place between 5:00am and 6:00am, on Friday 28th March, 2008…"**

**CHLOE** to recover from the torture gets ready to leave the Safehouse, takes last look at bodies **A1.1**

**JORDYN** Sifts through the wreckage from the explosion, receives reports, believes explosion must have been a diversion and goes to work on finding what **A1.2**

**WALKER** Receives update from Jordyn while he gives chase to TGR, calls CTU (INTERSPERSE WITH CTU) to identify their location **A1.3**

**TGR** George talks to Roger while Tony drives; Roger tells Tony where he wants to go** A1.4**

**LAURA** Martin lies with her after their passion, stands up, seeming uneasy, tries to get her out until men capture both of them, Martin is executed as Laura is bundled into a van **A1.5**

**JACK** Jack is checked out by a nurse, they talk, Cassel enters and takes her out, and Jack sees him kissing her **A2.1**

**ANGELA** Halfway to prison when Leyland calls, they argue, tells her Jack escaped, she gets call from Chloe **A2.2**

**CHLOE** calls Angela as she leaves, learns of Jack's escape, tells Angela to wait for her before going back to the prison **A2.3**

**JORDYN** finds the white van on tape and goes about identifying it (INTERSPERSE WITH CTU) **A2.4**

**WHITE VAN MEN** They stop off and drop off the cargo, leader stays with it and talks to the younger ones as they set off, transponder is activated **A3.1**

**BYRNE **finds out Jack has escaped **A3.2**

**JORDYN** finds van, sends only available team after it **A3.3**

**JACK** Jack and Ivan talk, he tells him some things about Cassel **A3.4**

**ANGELA** Meets Chloe **A4.1**

**LAURA** Car stops, Laura talks with one of her captors, learns what Martin had been doing **A4.2**

**TGR/WALKER** Roger wipes the evidence, creates a private copy, Walker bursts in and arrests the three **A4.3**

**JACK** Cassel and Ivan make call to Byrne; Jack joins as the hour closes **A4.4**

**5:00am Pacific Daylight Time**

**CTU Safehouse**

Chloe looked up from the grimy sink into the rusted mirror that hung on the wall in front of her. She didn't recognize the face that peered back anymore. Her usually presentable blonde hair was now tangled and wild, matted with sweat and small amounts of blood that could have been anyone's. Her eyes, usually bright and attentive, were dull, lifeless and puffy from the tears that had fallen during her torture. Her skin was pasty and pale from the weeks and months of neglect where she had eaten, drank and slept the surveillance of Jack Bauer. She now wondered if that had all been worth it.

Chloe placed her hands firmly around the edges of the sink, trying her best to stay upright. The medical torture she had been placed under was still having its effects, and every nerve ending she could still feel was still burning. Her slender legs were trembling and shaking from the exertion of standing, but it was mostly because of her attack that she knew she had to keep going. Angela was out on her own, and she had sworn to protect her. For Jack as much as anyone.

She turned the cold tap on with difficulty, relieved to find that there was still running water in the degenerating house. She cupped a large amount in her hands and splashed the contents on her face and neck, trying to get back to her usual self. She then went about trying to clean the blood from her hands, even though that wasn't what was bothering her. In the past six months, she had seen her fair share of bloodshed and pain. Working at CTU had become too difficult for her long ago, but she knew nothing until she reached the underground camps that changed her into the person she was today. She wanted toughening up, but she never asked to become a monster. There was blood on her hands; but not all of it was visible.

She finished up and sighed deeply, taking one last look in the mirror before she left the small bathroom. The smell of death still hung around the hallway of the Safehouse, and she could still see the feet of one of the dead poking out of the doorway. She would have tried to hide the bodies, but she couldn't care less about being caught. She had no choice but to keep going on her quest for Jack's justice – no matter where it took her. She stepped over the protruding body, and moved for the door, grabbing her coat as she went.

**5:03am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Los Angeles International Airport, Runway 1**

Anna Jordyn walked slowly and unsteadily through the chaos of debris that was strewn across the runway and its surroundings. Less than five minutes ago, Jordyn had watched as hostages were escorted from the plane. The next thing she knew, flames licked up the edges of the plane as it exploded into a ball of fire. She had no idea how many hostages had made it off the plane before the explosion, and even less idea of why there had been an explosion in the first place. The dust had not yet settled, and Jordyn could still hear the cries of the wounded lying unattended in the hidden distance. She saw a group of three airport security, including the man who was in charge of the operation – Officer Andrew Hope. He saw Jordyn coming and tried a small smile.

"Well this is another time I can say that I hate you being right…"

"How are you doing Andrew?" Jordyn asked, shaking his hand warmly.

"Not too bad; which is more than can be said for this sorry mess." Andrew took a glance over to the charred fuselage of the aircraft, and then quickly returned to Jordyn. He hadn't seen his old friend in a while, but he wished it could have been in different circumstances. "So how many dead? Do we have any idea yet?"

"I'd say around three quarters of the hostages made it off the plane before it was detonated; take a third of them away as being killed by debris or otherwise, and we're looking at about two-hundred to three-hundred dead."

"That's a pretty big estimate Jordyn…" Andrew whispered, wide-eyed.

"No point being conservative with things like this."  
"You're always all about business Jordyn…ever tried showing some humanity?"

She flashed a cautionary glance at Andrew and continued unabated. "Why would he blow up the plane before the hostages got out? Why did he even try and get them out?"

"Maybe he thought we could get something out of him if we got him alive. He saw us moving on him."

"But he could have just taken his own life, not blown up the whole plane."

"Some people are exhibitionists Jordyn…"

Somehow, Jordyn didn't agree with Andrew's view of things. "Or the whole thing was just a diversion…"

"What do you mean?"

"What if the whole hijacking was a diversion? Take a look around – there's hundreds of security and law enforcement here."

"And your point is?"

"Everybody's here. That doesn't leave many people guarding any gates now, does it?"

Andrew was at a loss for words as Jordyn stared at him with a smug smile, one that told the world she had figured it out. She began to move away quickly. "Where are you going?"

"To find out which gate's been compromised. You keep trying to prove I'm wrong!"

"Always Jordyn, always."

Jordyn paced quickly back towards the staging area, hoping that she could figure this whole mess out quickly enough so as not to lose any leads. And she also secretly wanted to show the people back at CTU that she could lead operations on her own, without Chris Walker holding her hand. Her cell-phone began ringing, and she pulled it out without breaking stride. The caller ID told her everything she didn't need to hear, and suddenly she was back to being number two.

"Hey Chris," she murmured.

**5:07am Pacific Daylight Time**

**South Sepulveda Boulevard, Los Angeles**

"Jordyn," Chris coughed, still feeling the effects of the blow Tony had dealt him not so long ago, "I need you to listen to me."

"You OK? You sound different?"

"Almeida knocked me out and took off with the hostage," he snarled, still cursing his inaction.

"Where is he now?"

"I think they're heading to the closest internet café."

"An internet café? Why?"

"I have no idea. But when I find them they're going into custody."

"Did somebody hurt their ego on the way down?" Jordyn quipped, trying to diffuse Chris's anger like she had done so often before.

"Don't push me Jordyn; I'm not in the mood."

There was a moment of silence as the icy tone settled, and then he continued.

"I heard an explosion a few minutes ago, what happened?"

"He started to let the hostages off the plane but saw us approaching and blew the whole place up."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that he pushed a big red button and the plane disintegrated. Want me to put it any simpler?"

Chris whispered a curse under his breath before continuing. "How many dead?"

"We don't know yet. It's a mess out here."  
"Alright. Keep me updated."

"Chris, you need to be here! Bill's not going to want you going on some crusade when something like this has happened."

"You can handle it Jordyn. Keep me posted."

Chris hung up and turned a hard right onto South Sepulveda Boulevard, hoping that this was the direction Tony and George had taken with their hostage. He knew that Jordyn was right – he had no right to be chasing up ex-Agents who would probably have nothing to do with the present threat. But Chris had a hunch, and ever since he had begun his current line of work, he had never been wrong on a hunch.

He dialed his car-phone again, this time placing a call to CTU, hoping that they could help him.

"It's Milo…" the CTU analyst greeted the caller in a relaxed manner.

"Milo, it's Chris. I need your help."

"Don't worry Chris, we're already on it. Nothing on the explosion yet though."

"I'm not calling about that Milo. I need your help for something else."

There was a beat. "Why do I get the feeling that you're going to want to keep this between us?"

"Probably because that's what I do want. I need you to overlay the locations of every internet café in Los Angeles onto the system map of my PDA."

"…Why?" was all Milo could muster.

"I'll explain later, but I need you to keep it quiet."

"Relax, I'm on it." Chris could hear Milo tapping away at his keyboard. "Ok, done. Anything else?"

"Yeah. I want you to find a vehicle."

"You mean a trace or the owner?"

"Both. The plates are seven…delta…mike…alpha…four…five…eight."

More tapping was heard. "Alright…okay, I got it." Suddenly Milo went silent.

"What is it?"

"The vehicle is registered to Michelle Dessler-Almeida."

Despite Milo's shock, Chris felt nothing. He already had an idea that it would be someone related to Tony; the only surprise was that Michelle was involved too.

"What's going on Chris?"

"I can't tell you right now. And if I told Bill then all he would do is pull me off it. Jordyn can handle the situation at LAX."

"I hope you're right…it's your ass."

"Send details of the trace to the map on my PDA and then get back to whatever you were doing. I'll take the blame for anything that happens."

"I know you will."

Chris hung up, leaving Milo shaking his head as he replaced the phone. He rubbed the slight growth of hair on his chin and smiled a wry smile as he began the trace. He would leave it running in the background while he ran the usual communications Bill had asked of him, and no-one would know. He would probably even try and find time for some more flirting with Melanie, and smiled broadly at the thought.

**5:09am Pacific Daylight Time**

**West Century Boulevard, Los Angeles**

Tony sped along West Century Boulevard like a bat out of hell, terrified of whoever may be mounting a chase. He looked in his rear-view mirror regularly, but all he saw was chaos behind him as everyone else tried to get out of LAX after the explosion. Tony knew that CTU would be all over it, and something deep down inside of him wished he was there too. He shook those thoughts from his head and drove on towards the building Roger had mentioned.

In the back seat, George sat with Roger as if guarding against his escape. The larger, blonde man sat uneasily as though he was expecting to be pounced upon at any minute. However, the rapidly balding man beside him sat in a relaxed manner as though he didn't have a care in the world. But then George Mason never did.

"You know I've read up on you Roger," he smiled, looking over at his quarry.

"What do you mean?" Roger asked nervously.

"Relax…it's just the usual stuff. I used to be Director of CTU, remember? That was quite a disappearing act last year."

"I didn't disappear – I got away from the men who were trying to kill me."

"And almost got an agent killed in the process! Don't worry though, he survived." Suddenly he remembered the horrors of the morning and quickly lost his smile, looking to the ground.

"I was only trying to survive. You would have done the same."

"I know you were, and I know that for the past twelve months you've stayed completely under the radar. We should know, we've been looking."

"I had to – there are a lot of people out there who would sleep a lot easier if I was dead."

"So what happened today?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on Roger – you spent twelve months hiding only to suddenly get caught today? That seems kind of fishy to me…"

"What are you accusing me of?"

George paused and stared at the quickly reddening face of Roger, and then shrugged it off. "Nothing. Just asking a few questions."

"Well if you really want to know, I got caught out today," he said, suddenly getting a wistful, sad, distant look in his eye, "Even though there have been people trying to kill me, I always managed to move somewhere else before they found me. I was always one step ahead. Then for the last three months – nothing. No-one came looking and I thought I'd ridden it out. But someone found me…and I….I…killed him…"

"It was self defense Roger. You don't need to worry about getting into trouble for killing someone who was trying to kill you."

Roger was silent, and he moved his stare to out of the window, avoiding George's gaze. He decided to change the subject.

"So what about this evidence? Is that what everyone's looking for?"

"Yeah…the albatross around my neck. I gave pretty much the last ten years of my life to Mike Novick, and then in his dying hours he made sure that he got the rest of it."

"So why not just release the evidence?"

Roger wheeled around quickly and stared into George's eyes. "You have no idea what that would do…"

"So why don't you tell me?"

"I'm not telling you any details of the evidence. You have to find that out for yourself once I'm far enough away."

George shook his head, aware that this line of questioning was going nowhere. "So if you're not going to tell me what the evidence contains, then why not tell me what your plans are from now."

"We go to the Business Anywhere Centre. It has 24 hour internet access. I access the evidence and get past the security and make you a time-operated local copy that will open in six hours." George tried to follow what Roger was saying, but the techno-babble that fell from his mouth was too much. "Then you take me to Union Station and I get as far away from Los Angeles as possible."

"How can we trust you Roger? How can we be guaranteed that the evidence you're trying to access is the real evidence?"

"Because it wouldn't be in my interest to alter or move the evidence."  
"Would it be in anyone else's?"

Roger smiled slightly. "If they could get in…"

George nodded and motioned for Roger to continue. He did, relishing the opportunity to show off his technical expertise.

"The files are held on a private server in a secure location. I don't even know where exactly the physical server is. The program attached to it generates 3 levels of password protection. The first is simple, and could probably be broken. The second is similar, but the key is double the length of the one before!" Roger was clearly in his element and had begun to babble slightly. "But the third is where I'm really proud. Once you clear the second level, you have sixty seconds to enter the code of my choosing, meaning that brute force or dictionary scanners become obsolete. The only way people will get past that is if they know the code at that moment…" Roger trailed off, clearly hoping that George would ask the obvious question.

"What happens when the time runs out?" he asked, satisfying Roger's lust.

"The evidence ups sticks and leaves. It relocates itself to another server somewhere on the internet and resets the keys."

George couldn't help but stare aghast. He had heard of such ideas in encryption, but he had no idea of them being implemented. This man was clearly smarter than his military persona let on. But before he could reply, Roger glanced out the window and yelped in surprise.

"We're here. That's the Business Anywhere Centre."

Tony nodded and pulled off the road and into the parking lot. He stopped the car in the nearest available space and turned around, facing Roger and staring deep into his eyes.

"If you screw us on this Roger, I will make sure this becomes very unpleasant for you."

Roger swallowed hard and then nodded. All three exited the car and moved towards the entrance, each nervously scanning the horizon for any danger. It had become second nature so far today.

**5:12am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Small Farmhouse, Twenty kilometers south of the Presidential Retreat**

Martin opened his eyes a crack and saw Laura Byrne's shapely body lying in front of him, her eyes closed and a small smile of contentment on her face. The thin sheet hugged every one of her curves and Martin couldn't help but admire the amazingly supple body of the thirty-eight-year-old First Lady. But as he watched her sleep, he couldn't help but feel like a traitor.

He kissed her forehead lightly and awoke her from her slumber. She stretched and slowly opened her tired eyes to the beautiful man who lay in front of her. She smiled and giggled a little, remembering their time of passion.

"Hey stud…" she murmured, trying to gauge why there was a frown on Martin's face.

"Hey…" he whispered back, rolling over and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a look of puzzlement on her face.

"You're a busy woman; I can't keep you too long."

"I can stay for an hour or so – you never want to spend a long time with me…sometimes I think you just want me for my body…" she said, sticking her tongue out at Martin.

"You know I wish I could Laura…its just impossible."

"Why is it impossible?" she asked, sliding along the bed and sitting up behind Martin, kissing his neck.

Martin shrugged away a little, trying not to pile more guilt on his already troubled mind. "Stop it Laura…"

"What's the matter Martin, don't want me anymore?"

"You know I do…"

"And I want you too, so why are you being like this?"

Martin turned and stared into Laura's eyes, stroking her cheek. "You shouldn't be with me Laura…you really shouldn't."

"You're acting very strangely Martin. You're scaring me."

Before he could reply, he jerked his head towards the open window and strained his neck as if trying to hear something. He leapt to his feet, grabbing Laura's hand as he went.

"Get dressed," he murmured, moving towards the window.  
"Well that's not one of the kinkiest commands you've ever given me Martin…"

He wheeled around. "This isn't funny Laura. Get dressed."

"What's going on Martin?" Laura asked, suddenly stone-faced.

"I've done something terrible. We need to get out of here."

Laura was about to protest as Martin moved for the door, but she was shocked into silence by the figure who managed to open it before him. The one brandishing a weapon.

"Hello Martin…going somewhere were you?"

Martin backed away slowly, shielding Laura from the growing number of men who advanced on them.

"You can't do this Paul. You just can't."

The man Martin had called Paul simply grinned and moved towards the two, as they backed away.

"Give up Martin. You had your job to do and you did good," Paul sneered. He turned to the four large men stationed behind him and nodded – clearly giving a clear signal to advance. They did so, grabbing Martin and roughly pushing him clear of the terrified Laura. Two of the gorilla-men held him back as the other two dragged the flailing first lady towards the door.

"NO!" Martin cried after them, struggling in vain against the rippling muscles of his captors, "You can't take her!"

"You knew what was going to happen Martin. But your betrayal gives me no choice as to what happens next."

Martin stopped struggling, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"Kill him," Paul said, turning to follow the other two men. He shut the door behind him, and smiled a little as he heard the muffled shot come from the silencer. Things had gone a little awry, but they were being handled. Things being handled correctly was something his boss valued highly. Paul smiled broader as the other two men emerged from the farmhouse to follow. Laura, even through her continued struggles, was bundled into the back of the unmarked van.

**5:16am Pacific Daylight Time**

**San Gabriel Observatory**

Jack opened his tired and aching eyes on the nurse's command and tried to focus. He had no idea what Besson had given him to turn him into such a lifeless wreck, but it had certainly taken its toll. He could only stand by as the nurse prodded and measured his vital signs to make sure he would survive the next few hours. After all, that was all she had been told would be required.

"Can you feel this?" she asked, not looking up from her hands pressing down on Jack's calf.

"Yeah…I'm not dying you know."

"Well that's what I'm here to find out."

Jack let her calm English accent wash over him, giving him a sense of relaxation amongst the chaos. Her big brown eyes and caramel hair gave her the look of a beauty queen, not a doctor. Jack guessed that she couldn't have been older than thirty, but there was a certain tiredness to her face that made him sorrowful for whatever was hurting her.

"What did they do to me?"

"Stop it Jack…I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

"So you know my name…seems like I'm more famous than I thought." The nurse looked away and continued working. Jack sighed and continued. "Listen to me; I can't be in much of a worse situation than I am in now, so please just talk to me."

Jack tried to catch the Nurse's eyes, but she refused to look at him.

"Please. Don't make this harder for me."

"Well if you won't talk to me, at least listen. Can you do that?"

The nurse nodded.

"Good. Now I'm guessing that they used some kind of sedative on me…possibly anesthetic crossed with something more sinister. I was dead for an hour, so I'm guessing they didn't just put me to sleep."

The nurse looked up and into Jack's eyes, pausing from her work. "You make it very hard to do my job Jack…" she trailed off, and Jack could see her struggling with her words.

"Start with your name," he said, with a slight smile.

"I'm Anna. Anna Pierce."

"So what did they give me Anna?"

"I'm not sure. Some of it was methohexital, but there were other things in it. Your heart stopped for at least a few minutes, and like you say, you were clinically dead."

"Not for the first time…"

"So I've heard…"

Jack gave her a slightly puzzled look.

"I'm a doctor; I was given a file you know."

Jack shrugged and turned away. "So you work with a known terrorist then?"

"Kevin is not a terrorist," she said without batting an eyelid.

"He took part in the plot to assassinate David Palmer twelve months ago, and to release a virus into the Los Angeles population."

"He never knew that Palmer was the target. He was used."

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because he did nothing wrong!"

Anna had stopped working on Jack and was now staring in his face, eyes wide with anger and frustration.

"He's got into your head hasn't he? Got you thinking like he does."

"No. I just happen to believe in him."

Jack shook his head and looked away, suddenly catching a glimpse of the fresh purple welts on her arm. Anna saw him staring and quickly moved away, covering up.

"I know what you're thinking…"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Jack watched as Anna's eyes dipped, trying to avoid his own.

"He doesn't hit me…the scars are from…something else."  
Jack nodded but didn't reply, motioning for her to continue.

"I've known Kevin since he was a teenager. We were sweethearts…" she trailed off as a small smile escaped, "Kevin had led such a troubled life, but we seemed like we were getting back on track…"

The way Anna trailed off spoke volumes as to how things had gone since then, but Jack really had no idea. He began to push further, but was interrupted by the tall figure of Kevin Cassel striding into the room. Anna looked up, but Jack only saw a look of slight fear in her face, rather than happiness.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" he smirked, his smug sense of self awareness shining through.

"No - we're just finishing up," she said quickly, almost dropping her instruments as she rushed to end the examination. Cassel slowly moved towards her deliberately, increasing the tension and anxiety already in the room.

"Good. We better get going Anna…"

She began to protest, but the look in Cassel's ice blue eyes left no room for argument. She quietly packed away the rest of her things and stood to leave, her head bowed. Just as she passed him, Kevin gripped her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. Even from his position, Jack could easily see Anna tremble. But instead of striking her, Cassel smiled and moved into her face slowly, kissing her deeply and slowly. Jack looked away, unable to watch the hideous spectacle.

**5:19am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Highway, Los Angeles**

Angela drove through the rapidly diminishing night through eyes filled with tears. She had run over the possibilities in her head millions of times since she had left the Safehouse, but none of them were good. She had been forced to watch from a distance as the man she loved was informed of her supposed death. Now she had no idea whether he had killed everyone in a rage, or just himself. She drove way beyond any speed limits set in place, determined to somehow save Jack from the inevitable. Her tears were interrupted as her cellphone rattled and vibrated on the seat next to her. She took a quick glance between dodging traffic and noticed the number immediately. It was the number she had been so used to for the past six months. The High Security Prison she was racing to.

"Hello," she half-yelled as she snapped the cell-phone open.

"Ms. Bennet…I'm so glad to hear from you." The voice was warm, but Angela knew it was all false. Officer Leyland had never been as much as civil with her, and, although she wished she didn't, she knew after today's events, he wouldn't be starting now.

"What do you want?"

Leyland's voice changed slightly, and Angela could already picture his face souring. "I am calling to inform you that Jack has escaped."

Angela froze, and in the process almost swerved off the road. She thought she was ready for anything Leyland had to say, but he had stumped her. "Escaped?" was all she could muster.

"Yes," he replied, flatly.

"How could this happen?"

"He tried to take his own life," Leyland sneered, clearly gaining pleasure in telling her so, "but escaped when we took him to medical."  
"And why am I only being told about this now?"

"Because we suspect he may be trying to find you."

There was a pause as Angela's brain screamed profanities down the phone at the pig-ignorant Leyland. One which was ended by him.

"Have you heard from him?"

"Do you fucking think I've heard from him?!" she screamed.

"It's a simple question Ms. Bennet…and excuse us for thinking that his lawyer…oops, sorry, lover…would have had something to do with his sudden disappearance…"

"How dare you…" she whispered, "How dare you accuse me of something like this. How dare you believe that I would commit a crime like that."

"It was just a question Angela…no need to act like this."

Angela could feel the rage rising, and the blood rushing to her face. She couldn't help herself, and blurted out, "Well I'm sure there are other people to blame, such as the ones who told Jack I was dead."

She knew as soon as she finished speaking that she had made a mistake. The surveillance that Chloe had conducted was dangerous and illegal in so many ways; she should never have revealed what she had seen to anyone, let alone the person under suspicion.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Leyland blurted, suddenly speaking quickly. There was a tense silence before he broke it, trying desperately to change the subject. "Listen, I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything. You're a lawyer; this line of questioning is standard in these cases."

Angela snorted slightly but didn't reply.

"We just need you to come down here. We're not trying to question you – you're our best hope of getting Jack back in one piece. You know that he won't survive very long outside…"  
The claim seemed heartfelt, but Angela couldn't bring herself to trust this man even an inch. She began to speak, but stopped again.

"I'll be there soon," she managed, before immediately hanging up.

She barely had a few seconds respite for the tears to flow before her cellphone rang once again.

**5:21am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Safehouse, Los Angeles**

"Hello?" Angela asked tentatively, not really wanting to know who was on the other end of the line.

"Angela it's me."

Chloe's voice was unusually welcome in the situation. Before she could add anything else, Angela's emotion exploded into life.

"He's gone Chloe! He just got broken out!"

"What?!"  
"He's gone Chloe…he's gone…"

"Angela, tell me exactly what's happened."

"Officer Leyland called, he told me that Jack had escaped and accused me of having a hand in it."

"Did he say how?"

The words almost caught in her throat as she forced them out. "He tried to kill himself. He escaped from medical."

Chloe was speechless for a second, as she too felt the hate Angela was feeling. "Where are you?"

"About five minutes north of Downtown, on my way to the prison."

"You're actually going there?"

"Yes, Leyland wants to see me. And to be honest, I need to see him."

"Are you crazy?! Don't you think it's a little fishy that Jack disappears right after he lies to him about your death? And now he wants to make you disappear as well."

"Are you saying that he's killed Jack?"

"I don't k now…I really don't…but I'm coming with you to the prison."

"Why?" was all Angela could muster.

"Because you'll need someone to protect you if things get ugly."

Angela shivered at the matter of fact tone in Chloe's voice, and although it terrified her, she knew she was right. She pulled onto the exit ramp of the freeway towards the truck stop that rose just above a gentle hill. "I'm at the Pacifica 112 Truck Stop."  
"Alright, I'll be there soon."

Chloe hung up and pocketed the cellphone, already moving towards the door. She swung her denim jacket over her shoulders, but paused as she passed the room she had been tortured in earlier. She looked to the floor and saw the bugged eyes of the chief mercenary, wide in fright and pain at his sudden downfall. She closed her eyes, and slowly closed the door, uncovering the full length mirror on the back of it.

The image that greeted her startled her somewhat. Her eyes were glazed and baggy-looking, as if she had taken drugs, and the skin on her face was a ghostly, sickly mix of white and yellow. There were still blood stains on her clothes and skin, but as she buttoned her jacket most of them were covered. She would have broken down, but there wasn't the time. She spun away, and exited the Safehouse, not even bothering to close the front door.

**5:23am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Staging Area, Los Angeles International Airport**

Jordyn paced impatiently across the cordoned off staging area, tapping her cellphone against her side as she awaited CTU returning her call. She had requested that Melanie search the satellite feeds to prove her right; and she knew she was. The whole hostage crisis didn't make sense, and her version of events tied up a lot of loose ends. She had been given a sit rep on the missing hostages, and it wasn't good news. She stared absent mindedly out onto the wreckage of the detonated plane as she recounted the news that just under half of the hostages had perished in the explosion, along with any evidence as to who planned the whole thing. Bomb squads had turned up nothing; not even a small ounce of residual explosive. Whoever had planned this, they had done it with precision and professionalism.

Suddenly Jordyn's phone shook the melancholy thoughts away. She quickly answered. "Hope you've got some good news for me Melanie."

"Of course," smiled Melanie, "We have one pristine white van leaving a strangely unmanned security post around thirty minutes ago."

"Leaving?"

"Yup, I'm trying to track it now."

"I knew it. Any ideas where they went in the airport?"

"None. They must have done some good recon – they missed every single one of the main security cameras, and the rest are corrupted or only give a partial shot. I'm guessing they went to the cargo areas though."

"Wait a minute, you said that some were corrupted…what do you mean?"

"The feeds were either off or distorted. Unfortunately for us, the distortion was pretty standard – perfectly fine until the van comes close, then nothing until it leaves."

"They scrambled it," Jordyn sighed.

"Exactly."

"They planned every inch of this," Jordyn murmured, "Every single god-damn inch."

"I'll find them Jordyn. I'm already close."

"Make sure you do. I'm sending beta-team to wherever you tell them – keep them and me updated."

"Will do. What do you want me to tell Bill?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well if beta-team is going after the van, what are you and Chris going to do?"

"I'm staying here until the investigators finish," then with a lower tone, "and Chris is fighting his own battles."

Melanie smiled and rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing that Agent Walker is doing some things that should be kept under the radar…"  
"Who knows Melanie…who knows…"

"No-one, ever. But I'm sure you'll keep it quiet until someone does."

Both women smiled. They trusted each other. In a profession dominated by the brawny male field agents and the nerdy analysts, Jordyn and Melanie liked to think they were a cut above; more stylish and sexy than the average CTU worker. They understood each other, and had hit it off as soon as they had met.

"I'll speak to you soon. Remember to keep me posted, alright?"

"Of course Jordyn."

Melanie hung up and looked up towards Bill's office, strangely surprised to see it empty. Suddenly she felt a presence beside her, and as she turned she saw the shock of largely salt hair appearing behind her.

"Who was that?" Bill Buchanan asked in a slightly raised tone.

Melanie's heart skipped a beat suddenly. "It was…Agent Jordyn Sir."

"I heard the casualty figures, does she have any idea what happened yet?"

"Well she's not sure, but I just tracked a white van that left the airport's perimeter just before the explosion."

"Why is that important?" Bill enquired, his interest raised.

"Jordyn thinks that the hijacking was just a diversion for something else. The van left an unmanned security gate, one which is usually manned by two guards."

"That's a pretty bold claim," Bill frowned, "Do we know what this van was doing?"

"Not a clue. They knew what they were doing – no security cameras picked them up."

"Keep on it. Maybe we'll catch a break."

"I will Sir."

Bill started to leave, but turned to ask one more question. "What's Agent Walker up to?"

Melanie paused for a second, swallowing hard. "She didn't say. I'm guessing he's questioning a few of the hostages."  
Bill cocked his head a little at the slightly frightened expression on Melanie's face. He was a seasoned Agent; someone who had climbed up through the ranks of the intelligence community quickly and quietly. He hadn't got to where he was without being cautious, and he knew something was awry here, but he couldn't quite place it. "Alright," he murmured, "Keep me posted."  
Melanie nodded and turned back to her station, satisfied that she had fobbed him off for now. She didn't notice as Bill moved the length of the floor towards Milo's station and tapped him on the shoulder, prompting him to follow. He did as he was told and joined his boss some distance away from everyone else.

"What's up Bill?" Milo asked.

"I need you to do something for me, and I need you to do it quietly."

His heart-rate quickened suddenly. "What do you need?"

"I think Melanie is hiding something. I'm sure it's nothing huge, but I need you to monitor her communications in and out, especially any to Agent Jordyn."

"Are you sure?" Milo asked, clearly hesitant.

"It's probably nothing, Milo, don't worry. I'm just making sure."

Milo looked to the floor.

"If you would rather I asked someone else then it's alright."

"No. It's alright. I'll do it."

"Good. Make sure you keep it between us."

Milo nodded and returned to his station as Bill moved up the stairs to his office. He left the analyst with a deep feeling of dread as to what he had just agreed to do. He had spent months trying to woo his unbelievably beautiful colleague, and this would certainly hinder things if he was found out. But he had faith in his own ability; he was sure he wouldn't get caught. He brought up the command prompt and began the entrance into Melanie's system, still not happy as to what he was doing.

**TGR** they reach their destination, find the building occupied by the owner, they break in, Roger gets to work **A2.5**

**5:28am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Business Anywhere Centre, West Century Boulevard**

George and Roger hung slightly behind Tony as the three men entered the Business Anywhere Centre. The lights were dimmed, but then considering the vast expanse of empty office chairs sitting before switched off computer screens, it was no wonder. The large computer room was deserted, save for three or four employees who were taking advantage of the high speed access. The talked in hushed tones, and had not yet noticed the three men's arrival.

"What do you need to do?" Tony murmured to Roger.

"I just need about ten minutes to get access to the evidence, and then I can make a copy."

Tony nodded slowly. "Why are you so helpful all of a sudden?"

Roger blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well before you were reluctant to even come with us and now you're going to give us the evidence you've spent twelve months trying to hide?"

Roger shook his head, and took a step forward, his head bowed. "Yes, I have spent twelve months hiding. But I've also spent it hiding – cowering in fear over when the next attempt on my life would come. And do you know something?" he asked, raising his head up as a single tear rolled down his left cheek, "I'm sick of running."

Tony looked Roger in the eye, and moved aside, motioning to an empty terminal. "Alright," he said simply, crossing his arms as the man passed him and took his seat. "Ten minutes?"

Roger turned around, and nodded in affirmation. He began working, just as Tony and George took a seat behind him, watching his every move.

**WHITE VAN MEN** They stop off and drop off the cargo, leader stays with it and talks to the younger ones as they set off, transponder is activated **A3.1**

**5:32am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Abandoned Warehouse, South Los Angeles**

The white van reversed slowly into the open garage and rolled to a stop just inside. The lights blinked to life as the door lowered shut, hiding the events inside from the world. As the lights flickered on, three men hopped out of the van. One remained at the rear and waited for the others to join them as he swung the large doors open. They heaved a large, rather deep box to the edge of the van, and then groaned as they lifted it out and onto the sturdy wooden desk behind them. They sighed and got their breath back as one figure emerged from the darkness, followed closely by two others.

"Do you have it?" the lead man asked tentatively.

"Yes," one of the van men said, carefully undoing the heavy locks on the crate.

"Make sure you are careful. That is very volatile material. And don't touch the insides of the container – it'll melt your skin off."

The man nodded and slowly swung the lid open, casting a dull glow over all who watched. There was a moment of stunned silence as they took in the full majesty of what lay before them; but then there was the inevitable fear, as they knew what power the material held.

"Close it," the lead man growled, clearly moved by what he had seen. The other man nodded and did as he was told, replacing the locks that kept it secure. He then moved over to another desk and laid his hands on another similar box. He motioned to his colleagues, and they helped him load it into the van.

"You know what to do," he said, nodding to the two men who had helped him. They nodded back and moved around to enter the driver and passenger doors, just as the two men who had come from the darkness followed. One lagged slightly behind however.

"What is wrong Dmitry?" the lead man said.

"Nothing," he replied, looking at the floor.

"It's alright to be afraid," the man said, putting an arm around him, "Everyone's afraid sometime in their lives."

"I'm not afraid Léon; I will do what is expected of me."

"Good. Make sure you do."

Dmitry nodded and joined the three men in the van. Within seconds, the van was on its way out of the garage and onto the Los Angeles streets again.

"Did you activate the transponder?" Léon asked his only remaining colleague, as he watched the van speed away.

"Yes."

"Good. We need to get out of here quickly."

The other man nodded, and moved over to the bench, leaving behind the pensive looking Léon, still watching the white van as it disappeared into the distance.

**BYRNE **finds out Jack has escaped **A3.2**

**5:34am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Presidential Retreat, Los Angeles**

President Byrne paced through the corridors of the Presidential retreat impatiently, wishing that somebody would pay attention to him for once. Ever since he had taken the office, he felt as though people could see him for what he was – a fraud and a murderer. He was constantly paranoid that people knew what he had done, and he had even been known to fire cabinet members that even said one bad word about him. Most just saw him as a hard-line perfectionist who didn't tolerate mistakes – none knew that he was simply covering up his own shame. Joshua Morrison moved quickly around the corner and spotted his boss before he could spot him. He knew that this would be a difficult conversation to have, and he wanted to gain the upper hand early. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas.

"Josh, there you are!" Byrne exclaimed as he spun around.

"Is something wrong Mr. President?" Josh asked, cursing his luck.

"I've been looking all over for Laura – I wanted to talk to her about some of the amendments she suggested to my speech at the summit today."

"Mr. President…we've been over that speech a thousand times. I promise you, it's good!"

"I just want to be sure Josh. Do you know where the First Lady is?"

"I do not Sir – unfortunately I came to speak to you on other matters."

"Like what Josh?" Byrne asked, suddenly becoming pensive.

"I was just contacted by someone over at the Justice Department…and it seems that Jack Bauer has escaped from prison."

"What?" Byrne said flatly, trying not to show his shock and anguish.

"I haven't been informed of the details, but it seems as though it happened around 2 hours ago."

"How could this happen!?" Byrne yelled, placing his hands on his head.

"I told you Mr. President, I don't have the specifics yet."

"What are they doing to find him?"

"They are mounting a search as we speak, and we'll have his face on the morning news cycle. He can't have got far Mr. President, we just need to be patient."  
"You know how much he can hurt us Josh. You of all people know that," he hissed, his voice lowered for the occasion.

"I know Mr. President. But we are doing all we can to stop him. He is not a stupid man – he knows that without evidence, he holds nothing against you. He'll be recaptured before he can do anything."

"But what if he comes after me, Josh? We're both in Los Angeles…what if he plans to come for me?"

"He wouldn't get anywhere near here Mr. President. Trust me."

"I hope you're right Josh," he said, clearly in another world by the glazed look in his eyes.

"What do you want me to do Mr. President?"

"Get me the agent in charge at the prison Bauer just escaped from."

"Right away Sir."

**JORDYN** finds van, sends only available team after it **A3.3**

**5:38am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Staging Area, Los Angeles International Airport**

Jordyn jumped a little as she heard a cry coming from one of her analysts working on finding the people who had left the airport.

"I've found something Jordyn!"

Jordyn ran over, almost stumbling in her haste. "What is it?"

"We know an approximate time when the van left the perimeter, but unfortunately there was no surveillance at the point of exit. But…" he said, moving to a complicated looking graph, "This is the reading for one of the perimeters safeguards against anything illegal entering the perimeter."

"What does that mean?"

"It monitors radiation and things like that, stops anything coming in that shouldn't be there. But this graph monitors heat."

"So something hot came through the perimeter – car engines are hot you know," Jordyn said sarcastically, her hopes dropping fast.

"Yes. But not at heats of 572 degrees Farenheit."

Jordyn gasped. "That's what this shows?"

"Yup. Something in that van was hot."

"Can we find it from this?"

"Just what I was getting to. Every bridge and major crossing in the state has had new detectors installed, similar to the ones here. Four minutes ago I caught our van heading through a checkpoint. I've got him on satellite."

"Great work. I'll call the field teams."

Jordyn moved away, snapping her phone from her pocket and proceeding to punch in CTU's number. She had never felt so proud in her job.

**JACK** Jack and Ivan talk, he tells him some things about Cassel **A3.4**

**5:42am Pacific Daylight Time**

**San Gabriel Observatory**

Jack pulled on a grubby, but wearable shirt and smoothed it over his aching body. He stared into the cracked mirror and gave a deep sigh of tiredness. Even though he had been in a coma for an hour or so earlier, he still felt as though he hadn't slept in weeks. He had suffered from insomnia many times during his stay in prison, and when he did sleep, it was fitful and troubled. He dreamt of David Palmer's contorted face as the life drained from his body. The look of betrayal always haunted his dreams. He always mentally beat himself up over not being able to stop it from happening. He had saved David Palmer's life on many occasions, but he had failed once – and that was all he could think about.

Suddenly his thoughts were broken by the creaking of the door behind him. He wheeled around, more instinctively than anything else, and stayed in a state of readiness as a man he didn't recognize entered the room.

"Relax Jack, it's OK," the man said with a thick Russian accent.

"Who are you?"

"I am Ivan Gresko. The other part of this plan you've been roped into."

Jack's analytical mind was already in overdrive; racking the stores of his memory for any trace of the name. He found none. "Did Cassel send you in?"

"No no," Ivan said with a slight chuckle, "This I have done of my own accord, unlike most things today."  
"What do you mean?"

"If Kevin had his way, I would simply be an assistant. He forgets that other people hold grudges too."

"Why did he break me out of prison?" Jack ventured, sensing that this man was a lot friendlier and forthcoming then Cassel would ever be.

"I honestly don't know. The decision was out of my hands. He feels that you share common ground, and frankly I agree with him."

"I share nothing with him," Jack growled.

"You share more than you think."

Jack looked away in disgust, realizing that this man was no different to the rest of them.

"You shouldn't blame him for your daughter's death Jack."

Jack wheeled around, getting into Ivan's face. "What do you know about my daughter?"

Ivan responded calmly. "I know that Cassel wasn't the one responsible for her death."

"He was part of it…" Jack growled, trying to keep his composure, "That's bad enough."

"I understand Jack. But you need to keep on the right side of him. He wouldn't hesitate to kill you if he felt he had to."

"Maybe that's what I want. What have I got left to live for?" Jack turned away, tears beginning to well in the corner's of his eyes.

"She's alive Jack."

There was a pause before Jack turned slowly around. "What?"

"Your lawyer. The one you love. Ms. Angela Bennet. She's alive."

"How…" Jack stammered, "How can you know that?"

"We've been monitoring security feeds at the prison you were in. It was Kevin's way of making sure nothing went wrong. Turns out that Leyland is dirty."

Jack couldn't tell if the fizzing feeling inside him was from happiness at Angela being alive or the anger at Leyland, but it gave him strength. "What else do you know?"

"Not much. It seems as though we weren't the only ones watching…"

Ivan shrugged and stood up, moving towards the door. Jack tried to stop him.

"Who else was watching?"

Ivan shrugged again, "Whoever it was Jack, it seems as though you have a guardian angel," he said, with a small dry chuckle. Ivan finally turned and moved out of the room, leaving Jack to contemplate what he had just been told. It was so much to take in, especially since he had a good idea who had been watching. Only one person could be so bold. Chloe.

**ANGELA** Meets Chloe **A4.1**

**5:47am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Parking Lot, Outside a Drive-Through**

Angela jumped a little and slid down in her seat as headlamps shone in through her rear window, signaling a new arrival. The parking lot was empty, save for one car which she was pretty sure was abandoned. The tires were flat, and the dents in the bodywork suggested that it had been used for target practice lately. She shuddered to think who could approach at any moment. She watched her rear-view mirror intently as the vehicle rolled to a stop on the other side of the lot. She relaxed a little, however, as the slight figure of Chloe emerged and jogged towards Angela's car.

"Where did you get the car? I took yours." Angela asked, staring at Chloe's pale, gaunt complexion.

"Some men came in once you left and they interrogated me," she said, rummaging around in the bag she had brought in with her, "Can I drive?" she added, without a break.

"Interrogated you?" Angela said, shocked.

"Yes. I killed them," she replied, flatly.

"I…don't think you're in any fit state to drive Chloe."

There was a moment of hesitiation on Chloe's focused face before she let the fatigue sweep over her. "Maybe you're right."

"You know I am," Angela murmured, throwing the car into reverse and pulling out of her space. "So what are you planning?"

"We go and talk to Jack's cellmate, then anyone else who might know what happened to Jack."

"What about Leyland?"

"Well we probably shouldn't talk to him," Chloe sneered.

"I mean what are we going to do about him?"

Chloe looked out the window for a second, as if pondering something. "Do you know anyone who could keep things quiet in there?"

"There's a warden I was friendly with. What do you need to do?"

There was a beat. "I need to get into the computer room."

**LAURA** Car stops, Laura talks with one of her captors, learns what Martin had been doing **A4.2**

**5:50am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Base of San Gabriel Mountains**

**TGR/WALKER** Roger wipes the evidence, creates a private copy, Walker bursts in and arrests the three **A4.3**

**5:53am Pacific Daylight Time**

**Staging Area, Los Angeles International Airport**

**JACK** Cassel and Ivan make call to Byrne; Jack joins as the hour closes **A4.4**

**5:58am Pacific Daylight Time**

**San Gabriel Observatory**

Kevin Cassel and Ivan Gresko stood uneasily in the cavernous main room of the Observatory, surrounded by various computer and communications equipment. They were awaiting a connection to the call that would be the making of their day – and they had to get it right first time.

Suddenly a small, weedy looking man rushed over from one of the temporary stations and signaled to the two men that everything was ready. Cassel took a sideways glance at his colleague, and then a deep breath. Static was heard through the speakers before clearing into the silence of the Presidential Situation room.

"Good morning Mr. President," Cassel oozed, "I trust we haven't woken you?"

"This is the President's Chief of Staff Joshua Morrison…"

"We requested to speak to the President, Mr. Morrison, not his secretary," Cassel interrupted with a sneer, "Now run along and fetch him."

Joshua glanced at the pondering President and shrugged slightly. "I'm here. Who am I speaking to?" Byrne spoke tentatively.

"You mean you don't recognize my voice, Mr. Byrne?" Cassel asked, deliberately disrespecting him.

Something inside Byrne knew exactly who he was speaking to, but for the life of him he couldn't identify it. "Tell me who you are…" he said.

"I'm insulted Stephen! But what I have to say is not fit for anyone's ears but yours."

"Whatever you have to say you can say in front of my staff."

"Stephen…you have many secrets. I don't want them coming out just yet. Make sure you're alone within the next ten seconds, or you will have a lot of questions to answer."

Cassel's tone deliberately left no room for debate, causing Byrne to shift uncomfortably in his chair. "Josh…if you want to leave then I will have no ill feeling towards you."

"I'm not going anywhere Mr. President – there is nothing he can say that would make me think any less of you."

The President smiled a little and turned back to look at the small black box that was causing him so much panic.

"Go ahead."

"Do you really not recognize my voice Stephen?"

"No, I don't believe I do."

"After all that planning twelve months ago involving myself and Mikhail, and you still don't remember…"

Byrne's heart skipped a beat as he finally realized who he was talking to. "Kevin…"

"Yes Stephen," he smiled, "It's me. Been a while hasn't it."

"What do you want Kevin?"

"I want justice. Especially after all those bad things you did twelve months ago. You betrayed me Stephen…shortly before you betrayed your country…"

"I have never betrayed my country. Never."

"So what do you call plotting to undermine the Presidency through the release of E511 virus? Was that just a game?"

"I didn't mean for any of that to happen…"

"Oh for fuck sake Stephen! Don't patronize me!" Cassel yelled, interrupting the President in mid flow. "You know as well as I do that you orchestrated that whole plan with the help of others. You had your eyes on the Presidency years ago. And now you've got it…was it worth it Stephen?"

"Are you calling just to cry to me Kevin?" taunted Byrne, trying to go on the offensive, "Because if you are then you're wasting your time."

Cassel was silent for a second as if he was pondering his response, but when it came it was measured and calm. "You made a big mistake when you betrayed me Stephen. I have spent twelve months waiting for the opportunity to get my revenge for what you did to me…and today I will do just that. I am going to give you a choice…a choice between killing thousands of your citizens, or none of them."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you do not resign from your post by 7:00am, hundreds of people will die."

"This administration does not negotiate with terrorists Mr. Cassel."

"Well it has elected one Stephen…" Cassel said with a smirk, "You have our demands – if you do not meet them then a very public building will be reduced to ashes. Your choice Mr. President."

In the situation room of the retreat, Byrne was visibly squirming in his chair at the phone call he was part of. "Is that all?" he asked, praying that it was.

"Actually, there's somebody else I should introduce you to. I'm sure you'll remember each other – in fact, he's just…dieing…to meet you again."

Byrne's heart dropped as the line went silent. He already knew who was about to speak.

Out of the shadows of the observation room stepped Jack Bauer. He moved uneasily, but he was regaining his strength nonetheless. He took his place in front of Cassel and Ivan and took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the hate.

"Hello Stephen…I don't need you to speak, because nothing you could say would make me hate you any less. Before this day is out, you will face justice. Make no mistake. You'll be hearing from us soon."

Jack ended the call, and for the first time in what seemed like days, felt a small smile spread across his face.

Byrne sat staring into space, a look of complete shock registering on his bright red face.

5:59:57

5:59:58

5:59:59

6:00:00


End file.
